


Making It Up as We Go

by foxymoley



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, Ghosts, Interrupting Sam Winchester, M/M, Made up porn, Metaphysical quantum dynamics regarding Cas' wings, Phone Sex, Salt And Burn, Telenovella as a seduction device
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 24,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxymoley/pseuds/foxymoley
Summary: A choose your own adventure story!The Winchester's catch a case—an ordinary salt and burn—but Dean's decisions along the way are up to you!Please use the 'chapter by chapter' option then use the links at the end of each chapter, not the ao3 'next chapter' links otherwise this won't make sense! And pleaseIGNORE THE CHAPTER NUMBERS!
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 30
Kudos: 42
Collections: Interactive Fiction/Actual ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’





	1. The beginning...

Dean had been meandering around the bunker for a few hours now. Some might call it moping, other—more romantically inclined—people might call it pining. Dean, however, claimed it was simply investigating. After a near miss, with a ghoul of all things, Dean had decided to take a couple of days off. Just him, Cas and the TV. And Sam of course. Although, Dean thought with an eye roll, after the sixteen hour long Harry Potter debacle, Sam isn't allowed to plan any more movie nights. 

Despite the fact that Dean had been living in his dead guy robe and boxers, and treating his bunker mates to his lax hygiene and overeating, he still maintained that he knew exactly what everyone needed and that was late nights watching classic movies and as many calories as possible. Sam, however, disagreed and kept sneaking fruit into the bunker. Dean found an apple on his pillow yesterday. His pillow, the one on his bed, in his room. He shuddered at the thought. Apple is for pie and for pie only or, maybe eating with a knife like a badass. He supposed it was ok in a drink in the summer, or as a garnish. Cas sometimes even sliced them real thin and put them in his PB&J and that was pretty good too. Okay fine. Apples can stay but he drew the line at kale. 

Making himself hungry despite the thought of the gross leafy mess, Dean strode purposefully towards the sub fixings that he knew for a fact were still good (no matter what Sam said, thank you very much), but stopped in his tracks upon seeing the very man looking up at him from his laptop with big eyes, those three little words forming in his stupid mouth. 

"So get this…"

"No, Sam, I'm on vacation. We are on vacation." Dean cut his hand through the air. No. He's tired and he just wants to mooch. Is that so much to ask? 

Dean avoided eye contact to complete his vital mission to the fridge but Sam followed him, laptop propped in the crook of his arm. 

"I'm bored, Dean, and you will be too before tomorrow."

"Nope, Sammy, got me some first class B movies queued up and Cas is bringing the snacks. Hmm, funny thing, no matter what, he always brings pie." The last one he had brought had been from a woman in town. 

He'd come back with a twinkle in his eye and Dean had entertained the hot feeling in his gut calmly and gracefully by yelling at Cas and storming off for a sulk until Sam had informed him that the woman was seventy five, if she was a day, told hilariously raunchy stories, and was married to the lady who ran the local Stitch 'n' Bitch. Dean had slunk back, his tail between his legs, to the kitchen where Cas was reheating the pie and pulling a couple of beers out of the fridge. Not his proudest moment but they had settled in to watch Tombstone that night and Cas had, as always, dropped it. 

Dean turned to the ridiculous array of food he had absentmindedly gathered. Rye? Yes. Ham? Good. Cheese? Always. Bit of green? He delicately tore off a square inch of lettuce and reluctantly dropped it on the bread then proceeded to plaster it down with mayo. 

He added everything else in cartoon-esque quantities, only stopping very briefly to consider whether doubling down on the pork with both bologna and ham was overdoing it, before deciding that he was mistaken in even doubting that for a second. 

Dean wondered, not for the first time, if Cas had cleared out his arteries recently and, again not for the first time, wondered if he should maybe look after himself better. Nah. He's gonna end his days on a hunt, not via heart disease. 

He stuck a slice of buttered toast in the middle for stability and taking a huge bite, he faced Sam, deliberately showing as much half masticated food as possible. Dean wasn't surprised he had bad table manners, part poor upbringing, part wanting to annoy Sam. He was also pretty proud that his little brother had grown up so polite. He sorta took a fair amount of credit for that and, while Stanford may have polished him up a bit, it was Dean that had made sure his edges hadn't grown too rough in the first place. 

As Sam paused in extolling the virtues of the case to throw him a bitchface, Dean noted it didn't stop him growing up into a sassy son of a bitch. He sighed. So proud. 

He waved a hand magnanimously, willing to listen to Sam if it would shut him up quicker. 

Apparently, a cursed object was floating around, possibly masquerading as a harmless truth charm. However, as the brothers knew all too well, there's no such thing as harmless when the truth is involved. In a self preserving fit of apathy, Dean deflected.

"Come on, Sammy, a truth charm? I'm pretty sure you can handle that. I have giant women destroying cities and kidnapping apes to watch!" He paused. That wasn't right, was it? Meh, he shrugged it off. 

Sam huffed at him, scooped up his laptop and headed to his room, presumably to pack. Although, Dean knew Sam had an extensive 'go bag'. One packed with more than the hunting essentials like Dean's own duffle. Despite having gotten himself pretty settled at Stanford, and had tried the old apple pie life when Dean was...away, he hadn't done the same since, treating the bunker like a motel. Maybe that's why he couldn't stay cooped up here for any length of time. 

Dean rubbed a hand over his face and watched the door for a good few minutes after his brother had left. What could possibly happen? He considered Sam hunting alone and let his mind wade into his ever present swamp of paranoia. 

"Dammit, Sammy." 

[Stay in the Bunker?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901622)

[Go with Sam?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901640)


	2. You chose to go with Sam

"Sam! Wait up. Gimme a minute."

Dean started to put all the food away, leaving out a few things for the road. 

"Grab, Cas, will ya?" 

He heard Sam's gigantic footsteps heading for Cas' room, then his equally gigantic knock on his door, probably scaring the shit out of the poor guy who was most likely napping. Dean had noticed Cas doing that sort of thing recently; napping, snacking, and maintaining himself. Dean should avoid thinking about Cas' physical maintenance, especially when he was about to share a car with him and his brother. 

Cas' rumble met him in the hallway, answering Sam in the affirmative so Dean hurried to his room to throw a few things in a bag, giving himself a once over in the mirror then meeting Sam and Cas at the car. 

He slid in behind the wheel, patted her lovingly and starting the engine. 

"Okay?" Sam in the passenger seat and Cas center backseat as usual, both nodded. "Let's roll." 

It took longer to get there than Dean would have liked due to the bitchfaces he received from two directions every time his foot got a little heavy. They made it at mid-afternoon but the first few motels had no vacancies. Going a bit closer to town, Sam managed to bag them a fairly upscale suite with a bit of light hacking and they each snagged a bed. Sam was puzzled for a moment until Cas explained. 

"While in theory I don't need to sleep, I use the time to rest and meditate. It is very like sleep and conserves my Grace now that my connection to heaven is diminished." Cas finished with a look of regret and Dean immediately rubbed a friendly, platonic, bro hand across his shoulders to comfort him. 

"I'm sorry to hear that, Cas, but at least we got plenty of room!" Sam said as he spread all his research out in the shared space. He logged on to the wifi and threw a book at Dean to go through. Cas took a wander to collect a copy of all the local newspapers for extra scrutiny. 

The table wasn't huge and when Cas got back, he took a seat closest to Dean, letting their knees rest together as they read.

At around 9pm, after a junk food dinner, Sam finally got a call from a witness he had tried to arrange a meeting with. 

"Okay, tomorrow at 10am at Warner's? Yup, okay, thanks." Sam ended the call. "Alright, we have the lead on the suspect’s ring but there's not much more we can do here until we talk to a few people.”

After an uneventful night and once all three men were ready, Sam and Dean both having shaved and dressed in their fed getup, Dean resolutely ignored Cas sitting on his bed in his shirt sleeves and started to pack. He realised he was being optimistic about the case, but he really wanted to be sure of a quick getaway if he needed one. 

"Okay." Sam popped his head through the door. "The latest victim was a woman in her late 30’s. Blonde, active, mother of a grown son who lives an hour or so away. Wife of a local banker. Doesn't share any similarities with the other victims that we can tell. She was at dinner with her best friend and his husband when the friend broke a wine glass and stabbed her with it. He claims he doesn't remember any of it. He's in custody a town over. Not much we can do for him but we can stop this thing from striking again."

Dean nodded along, face screwed up as he thought. 

"Where were they eating and can we talk to the husband?" 

"It's Eric Mathers—that's the friend's husband— that we're meeting at the restaurant in about an hour." Sam straightened his tie then disappeared. Cas pulled on his coat as he followed and Dean took up the rear, grabbing his duffle on the way. 

The restaurant turned out to be more of a diner, albeit with the pleather seats intact and no brown spots on the chrome trims. The hostess—a perky redhead—directed them to the table Eric was already sitting at. He stared out the window and didn't turn until all three men had taken their seats. Sam next to him and Dean and Cas squeezed in on the other side. 

"Mr. Mathers?" Dean began. "I'm Agent Hayes. These are Agents Hudson and Vickers. We understand you were eating here with the victim and your husband when he attacked her? Could you tell us what happened?" 

"If I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. I still don't believe it. Max is the sweetest man you'll ever meet. He wouldn't hurt a fly! I don't understand what happened. We were waiting for dessert, the meal had been lovely, we've both known Ani for years! 

She was telling us about a trip through Asia she went on after college when Max just stood up and…and he…" Eric grappled with the napkin dispenser until Dean helped him pull out a few. "He smashed the glass, and just…" with one hand dabbing at his eyes, he weakly mimed a stabbing motion with the other. Sam laid a hand on the man's forearm and encouraged him with a small smile and a nod. 

"Has anything changed at home, Mr. Mathers? New job? Renovation?" asked Dean softly. 

Eric shook his head. Cas frowned. Uh oh, that was a good sign he was about to be blunt. Sometimes useful, sometimes…not so much. 

"How long were you and Anika together?" Cas intoned gravely. 

"How…how did you know?" the man stuttered, wide eyed. "It was before we moved here. Ani and I met on that Asia trip. We had a little vacation fling, parted ways, then by total coincidence, we ended up here. That's it, I promise! We were both happily married." 

Sam had been flicking through the file as Eric talked, he now pushed forward a few photos. A candid shot of Max at a barbecue, a selfie of the three diners on the night in question and his mugshot. 

"We believe you, Eric. Now, what can you tell us about this ring Max is wearing?" Sam tapped the selfie. "He doesn't have it at the barbeque but he has it here." 

Eric stared blankly at the photos, absentmindedly stroking the mugshot, until realisation dawned on his face. 

"His wedding ring. He's had it for years but he had it resized. He's put on weight recently, says it’s stress from work, so he had it made bigger. That's why he wasn't wearing it, nothing nefarious! I told you, he's a good man. We are…were…happy." He looked devastated, red faced and wringing his hands in his lap. 

"Alright, Mr. Mathers. Please call if you think of anything." Sam handed him his card and he fiddled with it on the table, he nodded wetly when Dean patted him on the back and they left him where they found him,staring out the window. 

"So what do you make of it?" Dean asked when they had left. 

"I believe the ring could be a cursed or haunted object. Rage is a common component of a haunting item due to the manifestation of vengeance in a living body. He could very well have been briefly possessed." Cas actually stroked his stubble like an old tiny detective and Dean could hear the rasp of it against his long fingers. 

"But he's had it for years," Sam pointed out. Dean clicked his fingers. 

"The extra gold! To make it bigger. Worth checking out?" Dean shrugged and Sam strode back inside to ask about the jeweller. He came back tapping on his phone. 

Karabin's was owned by a couple who had learned the trade from his father, who had learned it from his father. The family had apparently been jewellers in the 'old country', bringing their methods to the United States several generations ago. Dean cast a look to Sam. Unfortunately, old usually equals haunted. 

"May we see your client list?" Dean asked. "Starting about 4 months ago." 

The proprietor—a tall, friendly brunette—grabbed a ledger from behind the counter. She smiled apologetically. 

"Sorry, we're old school here." She shuffled through the pages until she had a half inch of paper between her fingers. "That's six months. Knock yourself out." 

Cas started to speed read the entries, pausing occasionally to make notes. Dean busied himself by poking around the shop, ducking through a curtain to find the workshop. The station was littered with intricate tools—tiny saws, things that looked like lockpicks—scraps of various metals and a pair of dainty white gloves. 

An ornate curleque of gold drew his attention as some of it had been neatly sliced away leaving such a clean edge that he assumed this was pretty good quality gold. The shimmer of purity was attractive and he had a strong urge to stroke a finger along the cut. 

[Don't touch it?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901823)

[Touch it?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901841)


	3. You chose to stay in the Bunker

Dean stayed camped out in front of the fridge, ostensibly trying to determine what else was edible and what might kill him, until he heard the tell tale rumble of the Impala exiting through the garage tunnel. Too late to go with Sam, Dean felt that his decision had been made for him via his indecision and, gathering roughly 75% of all the food in the kitchen, he made his way to his room. 

He passed number fifteen, the Men of Letters' Aquarian Star catching the light, and he briefly wondered what Cas used it for considering, besides the pot of coffee he'd presumably put on earlier, Cas hadn't made an appearance yet today. Images rose unbidden of Cas doing human-y type things. Like, napping, brushing his teeth, and…other, more...base, activities. He hummed and put a pin in that thought to revisit later. 

Dean shook himself, then paused outside Cas' room momentarily, undecided on whether Attack of the 50ft Woman was one of Cas' 'Must Sees'. Cas had worn that small smile of his all the way through The Blob so either way, Dean had a feeling he would enjoy it. 

"Besides, it's a classic!" He waved his hands as best he could laden with so much food. "Okay, just the two of us for the movie." He could handle that; he raised his hand to knock but the door swung open first to reveal a pyjama'd Angel of the Lord. Cas rubbed his eyes and peered at Dean. 

"Would you mind talking to yourself a little more quietly please, I was having a nap," Cas rasped out in a definitely not cute or sexy sleepy gravel. 

"Sorry, Cas, I was just gonna ask if you wanted to watch a movie with me?" Dean felt the live-in butterflies in his stomach take flight as Cas ducked his head and smiled a little, stepping out of his room and pulling the door closed behind him. Dean—in his besotted stupor—completely failed to move out of Cas' way and they ended up nose to nose. Only Dean's feast held between them. 

Cas raised a hand and, as Dean's eyes fluttered shut, he held his breath, waiting for Cas to…pull the popcorn from his arms and make off down the hall with it, his bare feet slapping against the polished tile of the bunker floor. Dean cursed as his eyes shot open, just in time to see Cas smirk over his shoulder at him. Asshole. He may still be an angel—dwindling grace or not—but he certainly gives Sam a run for his money in the sass department. 

Dean stalked down the hall and arrived at his room to find Cas had already made himself at home on his bed. Three blankets already pulled from the ether and draped around his shoulders and over his lap. Dean scoffed. Cas didn't seem to have quite enough mojo to stay warm and awake but he could magic an extra blanket from anywhere. The sight of his eager friend made him grin though and he slumped down beside him with a much more conservative two blankets. Part of him wanted to fix the heating, a bigger part of him—the part currently snuggled up next to Cas—was happy to wait until winter properly sets in and he's freezing alone in his bed. Huh, that took a dark turn. He frowned and snuggled deeper, pretending he could somehow save Cas' warmth for later. 

His laptop lay open on the desk and Dean used his phone to press play. The extended 50's credits began to roll, complete with retro art and dramatic music. Dean felt Cas abandon the popcorn to shift under the blankets and, in doing so, he listed over to press against Dean's side even more. Cas' body heat seeped through the blankets into Dean's arm and he reveled in the closeness. It seemed the only time he ever got to touch the object of his wildly increasing desires is when one or both of them were about to die or had just recently died. It all made for a very stressful relationship. Just once he would love for a hug to simply be an embrace, a show of casual, or not so casual, affection. 

He tried to refocus on Nancy's alien encounter but even the prospect of a giant, scantily clad centerfold wasn't enough to draw his attention from the sleepy body, with its mop of soft, fresh smelling hair, pressed against him. 

[Feign Sleep?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901679)

[Make a move?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901709)


	4. You chose to feign sleep...

While Dean was more than happy for this vague cuddling, he steeled himself and tried to come to a decision. A big one. A doozy. He was sick of denying himself the very basic pleasure of companionship, sick of thinking of himself as a liability.  
Dean was aware that he was in love with Cas. There really were no two ways about it. 

It started with a bang of a barn door and a beautiful, otherworldly creature striding towards him in a shower of sparks. Okay, maybe he had been scared shitless and stabbed him through the heart but what relationship doesn't have its problems? It had only gotten stronger, generalised lust making way for actual feelings. The more Cas gave, the harder Dean fell.

As Dean lay there he considered the ol' yawn and stretch maneuver but dismissed it as juvenile. He then thought about snuggling closer, inch by inch, until they would basically be spooning. That seemed a likelier way of getting a bit of snuggle action but also had the benefit of being able to play it off as just falling asleep. Sounded flawless in his head so he shifted down ever so slightly. He tried to keep an eye on the movie's run time so that he could do this slowly enough to seem natural. Jesus Christ, when did he revert to being a teenager? 

At about the forty minute mark Dean found himself slumped down, arms loose over his stomach and head tilted Cas-wards. He figured another couple of minutes would do it so he relaxed his knees to let them fall open a bit, dropped his spine from the tense state it had been in for the last half an hour, then let his hands fall to his lap. His dipped against Cas' shoulder as he 'nodded off'... 

Dean's eyes shot open. Shit. He briefly experienced the disorientation of waking up fully clothed with a warm body wrapped in his arms. He very gently peered past Cas' mop of hair to see that the angel was napping again. Dean lay his head down and guiltily tried to enjoy it a few moments more. 

He could feel Cas' heartbeat where his hand was curled into his shirt. The steady rhythm like hypnosis as it tried to lull him back to sleep. Dean resisted, not wanting to move but equally not wanting to get caught breathing in his best friend's scent. 

Eventually, he tried to pull his hand away but Cas gripped his wrist and huffed, pulling Dean closer to his back. The hip to ass contact stirred little Dean to attention quicker than Dean would care to admit. The breathy pants from Cas as he got comfortable weren't helping the situation and as Dean only grew harder he considered what to do. 

[Escape?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901736)

[Stay?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901763)


	5. You chose to make a move...

While Dean was more than happy for this vague cuddling, he steeled himself and came to a decision. A big one. A doozy. He was sick of denying himself the very basic pleasure of companionship, sick of thinking of himself as a liability. Dean was aware that he was in love with Cas. There really were no two ways about it. 

It started with a bang of a barn door and a beautiful, otherworldly creature striding towards him in a shower of sparks. Okay, maybe he had been scared shitless and stabbed him through the heart but what relationship doesn't have its problems? It had only gotten stronger, the feelings of generalised lust making way for actual feelings. The more Cas gave, the harder Dean fell. He very suddenly felt selfish. Dean wanted Cas. He wanted to touch him, hold him, have him. 

As Dean lay there—mind made up—he considered how he might proposition his friend but still be able to play it off as a misunderstanding if it went horribly wrong. He could pretend to fall asleep? Nah, too risky considering how tired he is. He really doesn't want to waste this opportunity by actually falling asleep.

He knew Cas had very little experience with dating or even just friendships so maybe he could go in with a classic. 

The ol' fake stretch should do it. Foolproof. 

He leaned into Cas' warmth ever so slightly, a bit at a time. He side eyed Cas. No reaction. He did a little yawn behind his hand and Cas turned his head to give him a small smile. A really nice small smile in fact. Dean's stomach flipped again and he upped his game. He put a little stretch in the next yawn, subtly positioning his shoulder behind Cas'. 

He waited an eternity a few moments and worked himself up into an epic, jaw cracking yawn and stretched his arms high above his head. Too high though as his elbow brushed the crucifix on the shelf behind his headboard. It swayed a bit but stayed put. The next thing happened so quickly Dean thought he was dreaming. 

Cas used the opportunity of Dean's brief distraction to dive under his still raised arm and snuggle into his side. Dean stared down at the top of Cas' head that somehow looked very smug for a mop of hair. 

Cas sighed and relaxed, moving closer to rest his head on Dean's chest. Dean's heart began to dance which Cas could no doubt feel because he practically purred. 

Dean dropped his hovering arm around Cas and pulled him against his side further. Cas raised his head, a beautiful gummy smile firmly in place and Dean grinned back. 

"Hello, Dean," Cas said through his smile. 

"Hey, Cas."

Dean ducked his head as Cas rose up and they met in the middle for a quick, sweet kiss. 

Cas hummed happily and resumed his snuggling. 

Dean may have been aiming for Netflix and Chill but Netflix and Cuddle was even better. 

The End.

[Back to the beginning... ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901538#workskin)


	6. You chose to escape...

After one very brief, super quick, totally not anything, roll of his hips against Cas' backside, Dean tore his hand away and rolled out of bed. He stared down at his traitorous crotch, willing it to behave. Cas stirred, no doubt awoken by Dean violently wrenching his arm free, and stretched, catlike. 

Cas lay on his side like a dishevelled Burt Reynolds, smiling softly at Dean, which really only intensified Dean's situation. Smiling quickly back, Dean shot up and swiftly headed to a nice, (cold) shower. 

By the time Dean got back to his room, Cas had folded the blankets, plumped the pillows and flown off. He doesn't know how long he stood staring at his empty bed but he was jolted from his reverie by his phone vibrating madly across his desk. Sam. He rubbed a hand over his face and answered. 

"Hey Sammy, what's up?" Dean riffled through his drawers as he spoke, grabbing a fresh set of everything. 

"Hey, I thought you might have changed your mind? I could use the manpower." Dean considered his options. Stay in the bunker with Cas or go help his brother. "Dean? It's not a difficult question."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up bitch." A third option occurred to him that meant he could help but also hang out with Cas. "Do you need some angel power too?" 

"Couldn't hurt. The file is uploaded." With that, Sam hung up and Dean pulled out extra clothes to pack. 

The duffle lay half packed on his bed as he hummed and hawed over what he'd need. This was dumb. He had a 'go bag' with everything he would normally take but here he was with his red button up in one hand and his green Henley in the other, wondering which one brought out his eyes more. Damn it. He shoved them both in. He paused, pulled them out, folded them and placed them back in the bag. His extended toiletry bag—the more private one with the extra things in it—ended up on top so he covered it with his worst pair of jeans. King of Subterfuge right here. 

"Hey, Cas?" Dean spoke to his empty room. "You still around?" His phone pinged instantly. 

**Cas** >> Yes, I'm home. I'm in the library. ☺ 

Dean smiled down at Cas calling the bunker home. The achy feeling in his chest returned as he made his way to Cas, duffle in hand. He found him, as promised, in the library, making corrections in the margins of a book on angel lore. 

"These texts really are riddled with errors," Cas intoned seriously in lieu of his normal greeting. "It has a mistake on every page!" 

Dean squeezed Cas' shoulder and he finally looked up from his work. 

"Hello, Dean," he said, too softly.

"Hey, Cas." They got caught in each other’s orbit for a moment before Dean shook himself to ask Cas if he was free for a case. He hesitated now though. Should he really put himself in a position like last night? Surely he can control himself in Cas' presence even if he now knows what it feels like to wake up with him all soft and warm. 

Dammit, Cas was still looking at him. Infinitely patient. 

[Ask Cas to come?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56909104)

[Leave Cas behind?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56908756)


	7. You chose to stay...

Dean lay as perfectly still as he could and willed his erection away. He thought of as many gross things as he could but upon looking at Cas, or feeling his warmth, he was taking two steps forward and one step back. 

'Sammy. Ew.'Cas rolls his hips ever so slightly. 'Dammit. Bobby naked. Ok, that worked.'Cas sighs beautifully. 'For fucks sake. Concentrate. That rugaru last month that Sam pushed on to a barbecue. Okay, that works.' Now feeling confident he could face Cas without embarrassing himself, he lay a hand on his shoulder. 

"Hey, Cas?" Nothing. "Hey, Cas!?" Dean whispered urgently. "You awake?" 

"No." Cas rolled further away, taking Dean's arm with him. Now basically straddling his bedmate, Dean considered his options. He could try to get up again but a slight pull of his arm just resulted in Cas squeezing tighter. 

Dean sighed. Obviously Cas was awake enough to hold on to him but was he awake enough to consent to a mounted spoon situation? 

"Stop thinking, Dean," Cas mumbled into the pillow. "Just lie down." Dean took one look at the door, his empty side of the bed then down at Cas. Sleep warm, bed headed, grumpy Cas. Dean smiled and released his weight slowly. As he relaxed, Cas shifted towards him, rolling onto his back underneath Dean. Eyes still closed, Cas smiled as Dean settled himself carefully against his chest. One arm immediately swept up Dean's back, pulling him in while the other kept a light grip on his wrist, Cas' thumb running softly, rhythmically across his palm. Both men sighed deeply as their legs entwined perfectly beneath the sheets. Minutes pass, just resting, drinking each other in. 

"Cas?" Dean whispered. "You still awake?" 

"No," Cas replied and Dean could hear the smile in it. "Go to sleep Dean, we'll talk in the morning...later."

"I don't think we need to, do we?" Dean asked awkwardly, worried that Cas had misunderstood as he sometimes did. Lying in the quiet darkness—against a warm body, in a soft bed—gave Dean the unique kind of courage he needed and was afraid he might lose by the morning. 

"I love you, Cas and that's all there is to it." He held his breath, until he felt a soft kiss pressed to his crown. 

"I love you too, Dean and, yes," another kiss, "that's all there is to it."

The End

[Back to the beginning... ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901538#workskin)


	8. You chose to not touch it...

The urge to touch it was curbed by his inner Sam nagging him. Instead, he pulled out and flicked on, his EMF reader. The device went crazy, beeping and flashing when he ran it by the metal. 

"Shit!" Dean took a step back and turned off the machine. 

"Whoa." Drawn by the noise of the EMF, Sam had appeared at his side, ledger under his arm. "Looks like you found the culprit. Cas had a look through this," he lifted the book, "and all the victims are in there." Sam shuffled through the pages and read aloud. "Alexandra Horne; custom trophy. Greg Wu; locket repair and here's Maxwell Mathers; ring resize."

Dean pulled a curse bag out of his inner pocket and used some nearby tongs to isolate the haunted chunk of gold. Sam and Dean reentered the shop floor and Dean held open the bag to ask the owner if she had any more scraps from it. She nodded and took the ledger, finger running down the page she pointed out another customer. 

"Irene Levy; new watch link. It's done but we haven't delivered it yet." She disappeared out the back and returned with the link in a gloved hand. She dropped it into the bag. Dean handed her his card. 

"Call that number and we'll get you all fixed up with reimbursement, okay?"  
She nodded gratefully and Dean could feel Cas' gaze, hot on the side of his face. He ignored him in favor of saying goodbye and leaving Sam to reassure the jeweller. 

Cas followed Dean outside, still staring. 

"Did you mean that?" Cas asked him after halting Dean with a gentle hand to his shoulder. 

"Did I mean what, Cas?" 

"That you would remunerate that craftsperson?" Cas still held his shoulder but as Dean nodded he let his hand drag down Dean's arm then finally slipping his fingers down Dean's palm and away. 

Dean looked down in a daze, completely shaken by the intimate touch. Cas ducked his head to meet Dean's eye with a small smile. 

"That was very kind of you, Dean." The Angel was so sincere and earnest that Dean felt a blush run rampant up his neck and over his face. 

"S'nothing, Cas, I'll just send 'em something safe from home. No biggie," Dean mumbled as Cas got closer with every word. He could feel his breath now, ghosting across his cheek. 

"Hey guys! Wait up! Jesus, Dean, couldn't hold on for four seconds?" 

Dean had stepped away from Cas as though burned and Sam stopped his tirade to watch them thoughtfully. Cas held his hand out to Dean and, despite his brother’s presence, Dean put his hand in it. Cas cleared his throat. 

"Dean? The bag, please. I will dispose of the gold." Dean found himself blushing for a different reason as he handed over the curse bag. 

"Thanks, Cas," Dean called after Cas as he strode away. 

"What the hell was that about?" Sam whisper yelled the second Cas was out of angel level hearing. 

[Don't tell Sam?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901901)

[Tell Sam?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901955)


	9. You chose to touch it...

The raw, shiny edge of the gold called out to him and, against his better judgment, he ran the very tip of his forefinger along the smooth surface. He looked around, nothing happened. Hmm. He picked up the gold and put it in a curse bag he pulled from his inner pocket. Dean heard his real name being spoken softly in the retail part of the store so he listened at the curtain curiously. 

"I don't see why you don't just tell him." The voice was too soft and low for Dean to figure out who said it, only that it was male. "He wouldn't understand," what sounded like the same voice replied. Dean was very confused now. Was someone talking to themselves out there? Where had Cas and Sam gone? 

"It's never gonna happen, not good enough. I don't know why…bothers…leave me alone." The words were fading, disjointed and missing parts. Dean shook his head and stepped through the curtain. Sam made conversation with the jeweller while Cas finished up with the ledger. 

"The victims are all here." Cas voice didn't sound right, it seemed to echo as if a recording of himself was being played at the same time. 

Dean stared until Cas made eye contact and a flood of images assaulted him. Cas with a man. A naked man. He couldn't see his face, just an embrace, that turned hot and heavy as he watched. The images came with a soundtrack of grunting and gasping. Dean screwed his eyes shut. This must have been something like what Max had seen in his husband’s eyes, albeit something from his past. 

A coldness spread through Dean's body as it occurred to him that this little skinemax was from the past too. He charged at Cas, arms outstretched to grip him around the neck. Anger and jealousy flowed through him as Cas simply let him tighten his hands against a pounding carotid.

"Who is he? Tell me, Cas? Who touched you?" Dean roared as Cas slumped to the floor, allowing the attack, not risking hurting Dean by fighting back. Dean was pulled bodily off the gasping man below him. Sam had him by the armpits, dragging him toward the jeweler’s door and the automated bars that drop during a robbery. Sam motioned behind him and the cage slammed down around them, Dean still trying to get at Cas. 

Sam still held him around his chest but let go when he managed to get hold of the curse bag tucked in to Dean's inner pocket. He tossed the bag through the bars and a recovering Cas caught it one handed. He gripped the gold through the fabric and the whole thing ignited. Dean immediately fainted, falling out of Sam's grip to lay folded at the bottom of the cage. 

The three conscious people looked at each other with wide eyes as the bars were slowly raised. Sam knelt at Dean's side and checked his pulse; going strong and his breathing was fine. He was going to be okay and deferred to Cas to easily lift him to the car. Cas sat in the backseat withDean's head cradled in his lap, he stroked the sweaty hair at his temples and murmured sweet nothings. 

"I'm sorry, Cas. I don't know what happened," Dean whispered hoarsely. 

"Shhh, it's fine. You're okay. What did you see?" Cas asked gently, never ceasing his soft caress. Dean felt himself blush but owed Cas an honest answer after nearly killing the guy. 

"I saw you with that man."

"What man?" Cas asked and Dean's eyes darted to Sam who was occupied by navigating. 

"The man you had…a relationship with. You were naked and…writhing." Both Cas and Dean squirmed uncomfortably. 

"There has been no other man, Dean," Cas whispered. "The only man 'writhing' around in here," he tapped his head, "is you, Dean. Always has been." Dean stared at him, speechless, until he grabbed Cas' tie and yanked him down. Pushing their lips together in a slightly messy kiss. 

"Good." Dean huffed out. "Me too."

The End

[Back to the beginning... ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901538#workskin)


	10. You chose not to tell Sam...

"Let’s go." Dean could feel his brother’s eyes on him as he walked away but he resolutely ignored him until they got to the car. Cars. Shit. It went without saying that Dean would drive the Impala home but someone needed to get the thunderbird back. Sam had already slid into the passenger seat and had his laptop poised and ready to go for more research. Dean looked up just as Cas emerged from an alleyway, presumably where he had just destroyed the gold discreetly. Cas took in the situation quickly and simply motioned to Dean for the keys. 

"Cas, I…" Dean started but he had no idea where he was going with that. 

"It's alright, Dean. I understand. I'll locate the other items and meet you at home. It won't take long now that I know what they are."

There it was again. Dean felt all fuzzy at Cas calling the bunker 'home' and they hovered by each other until Sam scared the crap out of him by blasting the horn. 

Dean shot Cas one last smile and warmed when he got one back. 

"See you later, Cas."

"Goodbye, Dean."

Dean watched Cas for as long as he could in his mirror, only looking away when they turned on to the highway. Dean ignored Sam tapping away at his laptop until he hummed thoughtfully. 

"S'up Sammy?" Dean asked, trying to take a peek at the screen. 

"Can you remember how to kill an arachne?" Sam asked. 

"Decapitation," Dean fired off instantly. "Why? Did Bobby find one in the tub again?" Dean snorted at his own joke. 

"Haha, Dean," punctuated by an eye roll but also a bit of a smirk. "Wally is hunting one and there's a chunk missing from the entry. Must have been a memory error."

"Or human error?" Dean pointed out helpfully and Sam threw him a truly stellar bitch face. 

The remaining drive was largely uneventful and Cas arrived at the bunker only an hour after them, having made short work of destroying all the rogue gold. Dean had already started on cooking burgers when he heard Cas make his way immediately to the kitchen. If he shimmied a bit more than usual to the music in preparation for Cas' arrival then that was his own business. He felt eyes on him as he moved around the kitchen lithley, his jeans riding low as he bent into cupboards he didn't need anything from and, ensuring his shirt rose as he languidly stretched up to shelves for unnecessary ingredients. 

"Why do you need peanut butter, Dean?" Cas asked from very close behind him. Dean dropped the jar but Cas hand darted out to catch it. 

"Um…" Shit, busted. "I'm trying a new satay recipe?" Dean hedged. Cas hummed noncommittally and stepped forward to reach up and put the jar back. He was very close now, so close that Dean was surrounded by the scent of laundry detergent and his own aftershave. Shit, that was actually pretty hot. Dean found himself leaning in as Cas took his time. 

"Hey, Cas!" Sam exclaimed excitedly, "you're back!" Cas took a measured step backwards causing Dean to use every ounce of his willpower to stay put and spend a few seconds trying to control his heartbeat, not to mention his laboured breathing. 

Sam seemed oblivious to the tension he had walked in on as he was already showing Cas the further research he had done on the gold. Dean tuned him out as he stared at Cas' perfect profile. 

"Dean!?" Sam yelled with the air of someone who had repeated himself more than once. Dean hummed. 

"The burgers?" Sam pointed. 

"Ah shit!" Dean spun back towards the grill—where things were looking a little smoky—to rescue dinner. He assembled the burgers, adding one for Cas as he had been enjoying the finer things in life recently, and loaded them up with all the trimmings. 

Dinner was usually quiet, with Cas sitting stoically, sharing long looks over his coffee but tonight, Sam filled the vacuum by continuing with the story of the gold. It turned out the ornament once adorned the desk of a particularly strict, but fair, judge. He was known as the most honest man in the state but met his grisly end at the hands of his wife's lover. Seems the trinket was sold to the Karabin’s at an estate sale in a box of random antiques and trinkets. The jewelers had always handled it with gloves and therefore had never come under attack from the ghost. The same couldn't be said for Max, who, while wearing the ring, could see the 'truth' of Eric and Anika's relationship. Unfortunately, he had the time frame confused and assumed the worst. The ghost took advantage and leapt in to attack his spouse's 'lover.' The other victims had similar fates. 

Alexandra Horne had ended up in the hospital after her son had struck her with the soccer trophy she had told him was from his school. She had simply been trying to spare his feelings after a loss. 

Greg Wu had given his wife the locket in its box. She had choked him with it after learning he had lost his job and not told her. 

All minor truths, resulting in major attacks. The truth, Dean thought to himself, was a fickle bitch. He began to consider what might have happened if he had actually touched the gold instead of resisting. Would he have attacked Sam or Cas? What kind of secrets did they hold that could be misunderstood like that? 

Dean had long since finished his burger so he cracked open another beer for each of them, completely failing to notice that Sam's was still nearly full, then excused himself. He sullenly dragged his bottle along the table as he went, drawing it to his lips as he left. Sam had fallen silent at last and Dean heard the scrape of a chair. He wondered which man had risen to attend to his melancholic mood swing. 

Fearing it was Sam, and because he didn't feel like a lecture about feeeeelings right now, he turned a few corners after passing by his room. He intended to bury himself in the bunker and sulk. 

[Head to the garage?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901979)

[Head to the dungeon?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901985)


	11. You chose to tell Sam...

"What did it look like, Sam? Huh? You with your great big moose body trampling about," Dean hissed. 

Sam took a step back, seemingly totally surprised by Dean's tone. 

"What?" He looked dumbly between Dean and Cas' departing figure. "Oh my god, are you fucking Cas?!" 

"Jesus, Sammy, keep your voice down! No, I am not fucking Cas but to be perfectly honest-" Dean had the sudden epiphany that perhaps honesty can be the best policy. "I really wouldn't mind if I was, okay?" 

Sam looked like a fish for a moment or two, lips flapping as he tried to parse what he'd just heard. 

"Since when?" 

"Since always." Dean shrugged. "I lo…I need him, Sam." 

"Oh. Huh. Okay, what are you going to do about it?" Sam challenged. 

"Well, I was finally getting somewhere until Samsquatch barreled in." Dean shoulder checked him and they both laughed a little. 

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'll stay out of the way." Sam raised his hand to scout salute and Dean leveled him with a disbelieving glare. "Okay, I'll try. S'not easy being this big, you know."

Dean hummed and pulled open the driver door. Sam slid into his usual seat and brought up a list of the other victims and their items. They curb crawled for a moment to pick up Cas, who had just emerged from the alleyway he had gone down to destroy the gold pieces discreetly. 

Now that they knew what they were looking for, it was easy to round up and destroy the rogue pieces of gold and soon they were on their way home. 

Dinner was usually quiet, with Cas sitting stoically, sharing long looks over his coffee. Tonight, however, Sam filled the awkward vacuum by telling the story of the gold. It turned out the ornament once adorned the desk of a particularly strict, but fair, judge. He was known as the most honest man in the state but met his grisly end at the hands of his wife's lover. Seems the trinket was sold to the Karabin's at an estate sale in a box of random antiques and tchotchkes. The jewelers had always handled it with gloves and thankfully had never come under attack from the ghost. The same couldn't be said for Max, who, while wearing the ring, could see the 'truth' of Eric and Anika's relationship. Unfortunately, he had the time frame confused and assumed the worst. The ghost took advantage and leapt in to attack his spouse's 'lover.' The other victims had similar fates. 

Alexandra Horne had ended up in the hospital after her son had struck her with the soccer trophy she had told him was from his school. She had simply been trying to spare his feelings after a loss. 

Greg Wu had given his wife the locket in its box. She had choked him with it after learning he had lost his job and not told her. 

All minor truths, resulting in major attacks. The truth, Dean thought to himself, was a fickle bitch. He began to consider what might have happened if he had actually touched the gold instead of resisting. Would he have attacked Sam or Cas? What kind of secrets did they hold that could be misunderstood like that? 

Dean had long since finished his burger so he cracked open another beer for each of them, completely failing to notice that Sam's was still nearly full, then excused himself. He sullenly dragged his bottle along the table as he went, drawing it to his lips as he left. Sam had fallen silent at last and Dean heard the scrape of a chair. He wondered which man had risen to attend to his melancholic mood swing. 

Fearing it was Sam, and because he didn't feel like a lecture about his feeeeelings for Cas right now, he turned a few corners after passing by his room. He intended to bury himself in the bunker and sulk. 

[Go to the garage?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901979)

[Go to the dungeon?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56902012)


	12. You chose to head to the garage...

Dean kept moving until he found himself in the garage. Despite the space being so cavernous, he always found comfort here. The smell of oil and rubber reminded him of Bobby's and the cars he'd been maintaining made him proud. 

He could safely say this was his favorite place, especially when there were two certain ladies parked side by side. He gave Baby her usual loving pat then had a look over the Lincoln. Her chrome had been polished and her body had been wiped down. Dean opened the hood to find the oil topped up and the radiator full. The tires were perfect and the windscreen was spotless. He smiled to himself as it seemed like his lecture had sunk in and Cas had given his own girl a little TLC when he had gotten back. 

He thought of Cas as he ran a gentle hand over the gold hood, trailing his fingers over the cab and lingering at the door handle. He sighed and turned to the Impala. 

Cars were simple. You looked after them, they looked after you. They got you where you needed to be and, in Baby's case, were a home. A shelter from not only the elements but from the unknown. He could get in her and drive. Run from what he and Cas could have, flee from that potential like a coward. 

He had a choice to make and for the first time, it felt like an easy one. He reached out, found the cold handle under his fingertips and pulled. 

He climbed into the Lincoln's passenger seat and breathed deeply. It smelled of detergent, his own aftershave again and leather polish. He leaned back and closed his eyes. Moments passed before someone opened the driver door and got in. 

"Hello, Dean." There was a small smile in Cas' voice as he greeted him. 

"Hey, Cas." Dean sighed and, eyes still closed, he felt Cas move closer on the bench seat. 

"Are you alright? Your demeanor changed abruptly at dinner. Did I do something wrong?" Dean risked a peek and Cas was, of course, looking at him like he always did. Like he was important. He didn't deserve that so he turned to look out the window at a dark corner of the garage. 

Dean jumped slightly when Cas laid a hand gently over his on the seat between them. 

More scared than he'd ever been but so, so tired of this, Dean laced their fingers together. He turned back to Cas and watched him light up, look down at their conjoined hands then back to Dean's face. 

They both leaned in at the same time, noses brushing and still holding eye contact. Their lips touched once and they pulled back, breath mingling. Another brief touch then Cas, confidence growing, surged forward to press their mouths together. The kiss was chaste despite how long it had been coming and it was sweet and it was perfect. 

Dean drew back and rested their foreheads together. 

"Love you, Cas," Dean breathed out then grinned into Cas' reply. 

"And I you, Dean."

The End

[Back to the beginning... ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901538#workskin)


	13. You chose to head to the dungeon...  Sam doesn't know

He kept moving, going deeper into the bunker, not really realising where he was headed. He could hear footfalls behind him and he guessed by the slight tap of each step that it was Cas in his chelsea dress boots. A sad testament to his diminishing Grace that Dean could detect him at all. 

He sped up, effectively running from Cas like a child. Well, if he was gonna sulk like one, he may as well act like one. The tapping grew quieter and Dean fooled himself into believing he had lost Cas at one of the turns. 

He'd found himself at the dungeon. Complete with sigils and chains. He circled the room, sipping his beer and running his fingers along the cold metal surfaces and figured it was as good a place as any to hide. He wished he'd brought more beer but at least they kept some holy spirits in here if he was desperate. He collapsed onto the wall mounted cot, the chains holding it up creaking loudly in the quiet space. 

Dean leaned his head against the wall as he brought the beer up to his lips. He heard the tapping approach again, the door groaned open and Cas peered around it. 

"Hey, Cas." Dean sighed but smiled despite himself. 

"Hello, Dean." Cas smiled back. He approached Dean where he now sat with his head in his hands, the very boots that gave him away moving in to view. 

Cas was so close now but jumped back when the door slammed behind him. Seems Cas had been followed too. Dean jumped up and they both strode to the heavy iron barrier and pounded on it. 

"Sam?!" 

"I'm here." Sam's voice came back, very close to the door. The small hatch slid open to reveal Sam smirking at them. 

"You two need to talk. You're acting weird and it's making me and the bunker uncomfortable. I'm not letting you out until you've gotten your shit together." The hatch slid closed with a bang. 

"Sam, you son of a bitch, open this door!" Dean screamed through the keyhole. "I am gonna shave your head if you don't let us out right now." Sam was silent and Dean pounded at the door. The hatch slid open again. 

"Oh, and by the way. I activated a kalsana chhotel jal ve sati joodoo. Have fun!" Sam laughed the only way an irritating little brother could then, as far as Dean was aware, retreated down the corridor. 

"Goddammit, what the hell is the casanova jelly doo doo?" Dean asked Cas petulantly. 

"Don't be obtuse. You can figure it out." Cas crossed his arms, obviously annoyed. "I hate it when you pretend to be stupid." Ah, that. Dean knew he was smart. He knew how to study, had a good memory and actually worked at keeping his brain agile. He usually thought it was more fun to ask Cas, as he would roll his eyes, huff, look at him fondly and just tell him the answer. Sometimes he would even whisper it in his ear and that was his favorite. This time however, Cas seems to be sick of his shit. 

"Come on, Cas." Cas looked away and Dean was starkly reminded of the time he'd called him a baby in a trenchcoat. "Fine. Okay. Kalsana. Kalsa could be home?" Cas frowned. "No, not home, sana. Enclose?" Cas smiled a very small smile. 

"Close enough, go on." 

"Chot…where have I heard that…?" He tapped a finger on his lips…then clicked his fingers happily. "Small!" Cas' smile got just a tiny bit bigger, anyone else wouldn't see the difference but Dean knew Cas' face like his own. "Alright, jal ve. Grr, I don't know. I can tell its something ancient, maybe Middle Eastern but gimme a hint?" Dean begged. 

"No, Dean, I don't think I will." Cas stepped closer, a gleam in his eye. Dean felt compelled to mirror him, something pushing at his back made him move towards the center of the room. 

"Cas? This is part of the spell. Wait, joodoo? That's spell right? Like hoodoo?" Dean did start to feel a bit excited. If his walking encyclopedia wasn't around, he would leave this kinda stuff to his brother just because it was easier but he knew he could figure shit out. He did hunt on his own for a while after all. Skipping the 'jal ve', he thought about the 'sati' part. He paced the room, only getting so far before the spongy, invisible perimeter stopped him, on his third or fourth pass he noticed it was getting smaller. Cas had simply been stepping in closer as it constricted. 

The way spells normally worked was actually pretty simple. Not cryptic at all. So enclosure obviously meant trap in this case. Chhotel was small. Small prison? Jal was sometimes guard, right? He glared at Cas but the angel just kept smirking back at him, the bubble making him step forward gracefully while Dean just let it push him around. Those bits were obvious, a trap of a shrinking space. 'Sati' was throwing him and appeared to be the closest thing to a verb in the whole damn tongue twister. 

His pacing was just stepping into Cas' space and out again until Dean and Cas were pressed together, chest to chest and sharing breath. 

"I'm sorry, Cas, you may have to save my ass again. You've always been there and…and I guess I shouldn't run anymore, huh? Even if it's just to this crappy dungeon." Dean's tongue shot out nervously and Cas stared at it, only meeting his eyes again when Dean leaned forward, dipping his head to brush their noses together. 

"Keep going, Dean." Cas tilted his head, breath ghosting over Dean's lips. 

"I guess what I mean is, that I…I need you." He pecked a chaste kiss to Cas' cheekbone, his cheek, his lips, "and," a longer kiss, mouths opening, tongues meeting, "I want you." 

"Yes, Dean. I need you…and I want you." Cas sighed against Dean's neck as they embraced. 

Dean turned his head, burying his face in Cas' hair as he whispered, "and I love you."

Cas grinned. 

"And I you."

The spelled walls fell away but the men remained together, holding each other.

"Ah," said Dean, "Sati. Truth." 

The End.


	14. You chose to head to the dungeon...

He kept moving, going deeper into the bunker, not really realising where he was headed. He could hear footfalls behind him and he guessed by the slight tap of each step that it was Cas in his chelsea dress boots. A sad testament to his diminishing Grace that Dean could detect him at all. 

He sped up, effectively running from Cas like a child. Well, if he was gonna sulk like one, he may as well act like one. The tapping grew quieter and Dean fooled himself into believing he had lost Cas at one of the turns. 

He'd found himself at the dungeon. Complete with sigils and chains. He circled the room, sipping his beer and running his fingers along the cold metal surfaces and figured it was as good a place as any to hide. He wished he'd brought more beer but at least they kept some holy spirits in here if he was desperate. He collapsed onto the wall mounted cot, the chains holding it up creaking loudly in the quiet space. 

Dean leaned his head against the wall as he brought the beer up to his lips. He heard the tapping approach again, the door groaned open and Cas peered around it. 

"Hey, Cas." Dean sighed but smiled despite himself. 

"Hello, Dean." Cas smiled back. He approached Dean where he now sat with his head in his hands, the very boots that gave him away moving in to view. 

Cas was so close now but jumped back when the door slammed behind him. Seems Cas had been followed too. Dean jumped up and they both strode to the heavy iron barrier and pounded on it. 

"Sam?!" 

"I'm here." Sam's voice came back, very close to the door. The small hatch slid open to reveal Sam smirking at them. 

"There's something you two need to discuss. Isn't that right, Dean? It's making me and the bunker uncomfortable. I'm not letting you out until you've gotten your shit together." The hatch slid closed with a bang. 

"Sam, you son of a bitch, open this door!" Dean screamed through the keyhole. "I am gonna shave your head if you don't let us out right now." Sam was silent and Dean pounded at the door. The hatch slid open again. 

"Oh, and by the way. I activated a kalsana chhotel jal ve sati joodoo. Have fun!" Sam laughed the only way an irritating little brother could then, as far as Dean was aware, retreated down the corridor. 

"Goddammit, what the hell is the casanova jelly doo doo?" Dean asked Cas petulantly. 

"Don't be obtuse. You can figure it out." Cas crossed his arms, obviously annoyed. "I hate it when you pretend to be stupid." Ah, that. Dean knew he was smart. He knew how to study, had a good memory and actually worked at keeping his brain agile. He usually thought it was more fun to ask Cas, as he would roll his eyes, huff, look at him fondly and just tell him the answer. Sometimes he would even whisper it in his ear and that was his favorite. This time however, Cas seems to be sick of his shit. 

"Come on, Cas." Cas looked away and Dean was starkly reminded of the time he'd called him a baby in a trenchcoat. "Fine. Okay. Kalsana. Kalsa could be home?" Cas frowned. "No, not home, sana. Enclose?" Cas smiled a very small smile. 

"Close enough, go on." 

"Chot…where have I heard that…?" He tapped a finger on his lips…then clicked his fingers happily. "Small!" Cas' smile got just a tiny bit bigger, anyone else wouldn't see the difference but Dean knew Cas' face like his own. "Alright, jal ve. Grr, I don't know. I can tell its something ancient, maybe Middle Eastern but gimme a hint?" Dean begged. 

"No, Dean, I don't think I will." Cas stepped closer, a gleam in his eye. Dean felt compelled to mirror him, something pushing at his back made him move towards the center of the room. 

"Cas? This is part of the spell. Wait, joodoo? That's spell right? Like hoodoo?" Dean did start to feel a bit excited. If his walking encyclopedia wasn't around, he would leave this kinda stuff to his brother just because it was easier but he knew he could figure shit out. He did hunt on his own for a while after all. Skipping the 'jal ve', he thought about the 'sati' part. He paced the room, only getting so far before the spongy, invisible perimeter stopped him, on his third or fourth pass he noticed it was getting smaller. Cas had simply been stepping in closer as it constricted. 

The way spells normally worked was actually pretty simple. Not cryptic at all. So enclosure obviously meant trap in this case. Chhotel was small. Small prison? Jal was sometimes guard, right? He glared at Cas but the angel just kept smirking back at him, the bubble making him step forward gracefully while Dean just let it push him around. Those bits were obvious, a trap of a shrinking space. 'Sati' was throwing him and appeared to be the closest thing to a verb in the whole damn tongue twister. 

His pacing was just stepping into Cas' space and out again until Dean and Cas were pressed together, chest to chest and sharing breath. 

"I'm sorry, Cas, you may have to save my ass again. You've always been there and…and I guess I shouldn't run anymore, huh? Even if it's just to this crappy dungeon." Dean's tongue shot out nervously and Cas stared at it, only meeting his eyes again when Dean leaned forward, dipping his head to brush their noses together. 

"Keep going, Dean." Cas tilted his head, breath ghosting over Dean's lips. 

"I guess what I mean is, that I…I need you." He pecked a chaste kiss to Cas' cheekbone, his cheek, his lips, "and," a longer kiss, mouths opening, tongues meeting, "I want you." 

"Yes, Dean. I need you…and I want you." Cas sighed against Dean's neck as they embraced. 

Dean turned his head, burying his face in Cas' hair as he whispered, "and I love you."

Cas grinned. 

"And I you."

The spelled walls fell away but the men remained together, holding each other.

"Ah," said Dean, "Sati. Truth." 

The End.


	15. You chose to take the Lincoln...

Dean threw his head back and sighed at the ceiling. 

"Jesus fucking Christ." He pinched the bridge of his nose and made a show of putting the Thunderbird keys back on their hook and jabbed a finger at Cas. "Fine, but I'm driving." 

Cas managed to look both thankful and annoyed at the same time by rolling his eyes with a soft smile. Dean did not get distracted enough to try to get in without taking the keys from Cas. Not at all! Cas' smile shifted minutely into a smirk before he unlocked the car from his side and got in. He made Dean wait a moment more before stretching over the front seat and looking up at him through the window. 

Seeing Cas from this perspective, his blue eyes hovering roughly at waist height, was not the best way to start this journey and Dean groaned as Cas finally flicked the door unlocked with a fucking wink. It was insanely dorky so he was ninety percent sure Cas didn't do it to be suggestive but, as he was finding more and more, the angel could be a provocative bastard. Doing things to fuck with Dean, sometimes even pranks with Sam's help, had become common place around the bunker these days. What was also, unfortunately common, was Cas, seemingly accidentally, being a sexy fucker. 

Deep breaths Dean. 

He repeated this to himself like a mantra as he got behind the wheel. Cas handed him the keys with entirely too much eye contact. Dean repeated his mantra again while he started the car. The engine turned over with a slightly worrying rattle and he looked at Cas accusingly. Cas shrugged sheepishly, and against Dean's better judgement he pulled out of the garage. 

An hour in, Cas turned his Zepp mixtape over for the second time and shared a small smile. Coughing away the chick flick moment, Dean gestured to the map tucked into the visor. 

"You wanna check the route for me?" 

Nodding, Cas slipped the map into his lap, folded the map out as far as the low roof would allow and shifted more centrally into the seat to bring his arms out. Dean leant away to dodge an errant left hand, getting a whiff of detergent and soap as he did so.

"Watch it, Cas!" 

"My apologies, Dean." Cas—apparently having pinpointed their location—folded the map haphazardly to a more manageable size. 

Dean leaned back again and noticed happily that Cas hadn't moved back to his side. Their knees didn't touch but it was a close thing and as Dean was busy contemplating how to close that gap, the map rustling occasionally as Cas ran his long fore finger along highways and over town limits, he felt a distinct crunch, then a clunk through the footwell. Looking over at Cas—who seemingly hadn't noticed anything—Dean slowed down, releasing the gas slowly and avoiding the brake. ‘If your car sounds funky, do as little as possible til she's been checked out.’ One of the few useful non hunting lessons John had imparted along with the Impala. 

Cas looked up as the car drifted to a rumbling halt on the shoulder. 

"Why are we stopping, Dean?" 

"Didn't you feel that? The crunch…? The _clunk!?_ "

"Um, it's been doing that for a little while now." Cas bit his lip and looked at Dean sidwards through his lashes. Dean closed his eyes for a second. Then five seconds. The coy, apologetic look was worse than any other. It took the nostalgic sentimentality of the puppy dog look then ramped it into a different place entirely with pure sex appeal. Fucker knew what he was doing. He had to. 

After some consideration Cas added. 

"Well, the clunk is new." He doubled down on the lip bite-lashes combo with a hand wring. Drawing attention to his agile fingers. Crafty bastard. 

Dean sighed and popped the hood via the catch under his seat, the one he doubted Cas even knew about. With 'I told you so' on the tip of his tongue, he climbed out and rounded the hood. Well, steam didn't billow out which was a shame. He could deal with a dodgy radiator but some things just can't be patched at the side of the road. 

Dean startled when Cas leaned in next to him, trying to follow the same visual path Dean was. He'd need to wait for the engine to cool a bit before having a poke around but, by the feel of the surrounding temperature, that wouldn't take long. To pass the time, Dean quizzed Cas about his car.

"When's the last time you topped up her oil? Refilled…anything?"

Cas ignored him, standing straight and pulling his trench coat around himself. 

"Time is an abstract concept to angels, Dean," Cas deadpanned. Dean huffed, fondly exasperated—and wasn't that a big fucking mood—and shook his head. 

"Yeah, well, it isn't an 'abstract concept' to rust so you gotta take better care of the old girl."

Dean stood to look Cas in the eye but in doing so looked back along the highway. He couldn't be sure but in the distance something was lying in the middle of the road. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pointed. 

"What do your elf eyes see, Cas?" Cas frowned as the reference seemed to throw him briefly, then focused along the road. 

"Ah." 

"Yeah. 'Ah'". 

"That appears to be a tailpipe, Dean."

Dean made his way to the back of the car. 

"You think it might be your tailpipe?"

Cas suddenly found the sky very interesting. Maybe he was praying. Who knows. 

Dean only had to look down to see the gap where the tailpipe should be. He was kinda worried at this point, that he would pinch his nose clean off. 

"Alright Cas, while we could drive like this, it won't be pleasant. We should probably stop at the next rest stop, okay?" Dean looked back at the hunk of metal then back at Cas pointedly. Cas bit his lip and looked away again before trudging towards it. 

Dean got in and reversed slowly, reaching Cas just as he was dragging the exhaust to the shoulder. 

"Throw it in the back, man, can't do anymore damage."

Cas actually had the nerve to throw him a dirty look before easily lifting the pipe, with its sump, into the back seat. Once Cas was situated in his seat again, Dean took off, slowly and carefully. 

They were thankful, for the first time, for the cold, as they quickly realised they couldn't have driven with the windows open. Fumes billowed up and around the car and Dean reminded Cas to keep an eye on the oxygen levels. Cas nodded, licked a single finger and held it aloft. He smirked and Dean chuckled. 

After slowly and loudly—thanks to the missing muffler—making their way along the highway, they pulled into the next services. Consisting of a diner and a motel it wasn't fancy, being the kinda place a trucker might book for a couple of hours for a nap or something equally as transient, but at least it would have (hopefully) warm rooms and (hopefully) hot food. 

Dean sent Cas in to book a room while he looked at the rusty metal in the back seat. It seemed like the brace holding it on had rusted through and it had simply failed. 

The entire unit looked okay to reinstall if he could find a few things. They were only an hour out from Sam so their options weren't too limited. 

[Call Sam to pick them up?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56909050)

[Try to fix the tailpipe?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56908954)


	16. You chose to take the Thunderbird...

Despite the big eyes, pouting, and generally pathetic display from Cas, Dean stuck to his guns. He threw his duffle in the back and slid into the Bird. Presumably Cas rolled his eyes behind him but got in anyway. He wasn't particularly graceful in defeat though, staring out of the window, bottom lip out and arms crossed. 

"Come on, Cas, don't be like that! I keep this car perfect and you…don't? When was the last time the pimpmobile had a tune up, huh?" Cas looked down at his now uncrossed arms, fingers curling together in his lap sheepishly. 

"Time is an abstract concept to angels, Dean." Dean barked out a laugh that surprised even himself. 

"Well, it isn't 'an abstract concept' to rust so, whatever, buddy." The engine turned over like a dream and settled into a beautiful rumble he could feel in his chest. She was no Baby but she was damn fine. He grinned at Cas, who smiled back despite himself, and pulled out of the garage. 

A couple of quiet hours later, Dean drew into the motel Sam was at, coasting through the lot to room six. Sam must have noticed the distinctive sound of a classic car and poked his head out the door with an awkward wave. 

"Hey Sammy!" Dean yelled just as he turned off the engine. His voice echoed through the cul De sac and Sam grimaced. 

"Dean, Cas." Sam greeted them more sedately with a nod each. "I only got a single for myself when I got here so I booked the single next door for you.” Dean gaped at him for a full ten seconds. 

He knew it. He knew deep down in his dirty soul that something like this would happen. It seemed that with every choice he made he slid further down that slippery slope of bad karma. Dean really needed to get a hold of himself, he shouldn't flip flop so often. Shit or get off the pot, right? He did what he does best and ignored that bit of wisdom. Shit, Sam was staring at him, clearly confused. 

" What? A single? For us?" Dean squeaked. 

"Um, Cas doesn't sleep?" Sam pointed out with a frown and Dean huffed out a laugh. 

"Oh! That may have changed." He looked to Cas to clarify. 

"While in theory I don't need to sleep, I use the time to rest and meditate. It is very like sleep and conserves my Grace now that my connection to heaven is diminished." Cas finished with a look of regret and Dean immediately rubbed a friendly, platonic, bro hand across his shoulders to comfort him. That was bullshit for Sam's benefit though. Meditate? In pyjamas? While drooling and occasionally snoring? 

So yeah, Dean may have watched the guy after he'd fallen asleep while binge watching Stranger Things for the third time and so maybe he knew these 'rest' periods were less consensual than Cas would like to admit. 

Judging by the look Sam shared with Dean, he saw right through it anyway. 

"Yuh huh. Okay, I'm sorry." Sam's eyes flicked up to the sign that now said 'no vacancies'. "Maybe they have a cot? Dean, why don't you go find out while I give Cas the info I uploaded because you probably didn't share it, did you?" 

"Um…I did…not. Sorry, ok, I'll go."

Dean crossed the forecourt, heading for the shabby reception. Through the water stained windows, he could see someone hunched over behind the desk. 

[Ask for a cot?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56909146)

[Don't ask for a cot?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56909161)


	17. You chose to leave Cas behind...

"Sam needs some help. I'm gonna head out." Dean's words ran together and he turned away before he lost his nerve and changed his mind. Dean couldn't stand to see the forlorn look that Cas was undoubtedly sporting but he just couldn't risk it. Knowing his luck, he would end up having to share a bed with him again or they'd break down and need to share body heat or something else ridiculous.

His resolve lasted long enough for him to pick the Thunderbird out from the garage of cars he had been restoring. The engine started first time and he patted her steering wheel proudly.

"Thata girl. Let's roll."

Dean made the trip in record time—as he didn't have Sam or Cas shooting him disapproving looks every time his foot got a little heavy—and he pulled into Sam's motel around noon.

Sam must have noticed the distinctive sound of a classic car and poked his head out the door with an awkward wave.

"Hey, Sammy!" Dean yelled just as he turned off the engine. His voice echoed through the cul de sac and Sam grimaced.

"Dean." Sam greeted him more sedately with a nod. "I only got a single for myself when I got here so I booked the single next door for you.

"Thanks, Sammy, I'll dump my gear and be right with ya." Dean left his duffle on his bed and unlocked the adjoining door from his side. He knocked and Sam let him through, immediately dragging him to the mess of papers on the kitchenette table.

The brothers worked through Sam's notes, stopping for a junk food dinner and calling it a night after Sam had organised a meeting with a witness in the morning.

"Alright, bitch, I'm turning in." Dean slapped Sam on the back, scooped up Sam's laptop with a wink and made his way to his bed via his bathroom.

Piss taken, teeth brushed, and stripped completely of clothing, Dean dropped on to his bed. It was still fairly early and he kinda had a buzz going. As if Cas could sense boredom and/or horniness striking, Dean's phone lit up with a text.

**Cas: Did you know there was another movie with the same premise as the one we watched together yesterday?**

****Dean: Yeah Cas, there have been a few. Which one did you find? Daryl Hannah? 😏** **

******Cas: The female protagonist is Sasha Grey. She is quite fetching. May we watch it?** ** **

Dean paused. That name was familiar. He tapped his fingers against his lips. Wasn't she in an episode of Star Trek? He vaguely remembers a pretty brunette in something tight and silver.

******Dean: Sure. Netflix?** ** **

******Cas: No, fyretv. It's like Netflix but with more content available. https://fyretv/titlesga5wd/1bLJcrI68_EKp7Y0KdsLKUFeb1bIr9lpJgwjYqJpzkA8/sharing ** ** **

Dean hummed to himself, he couldn't keep up with the plethora of streaming platforms available now and Sam would kill him if his laptop got infected again but he was pretty sure the anti-virus software was up to date.

Especially after the last time. He grimaced. Dean had tried a site for particular tastes and Sam had gone through the browser history that he thought he'd deleted but apparently there's a cache of cookies in there spilling all his secrets. Like the turducken all over again. Betrayed by food.

Fuck it. He forwarded the link to his browser and it started to play instantly.

******Dean: is it going on your end?** ** **

******Cas: Yes, Dean. 🙂** ** **

******Dean: Awesome** ** **

The credits at the beginning were much shorter than the 50’s counterpart and it looked like this one was made in the late 90’s. He didn't know if this was a mirror share type arrangement and he didn't want to mess up Cas’ screen by searching for more info or do anything to confuse the poor guy so he settled down, phone in hand and laptop between his knees.

It was around the five minute mark that something seemed a bit hinky. The main girl was great. Pretty hot, good actress. The male lead was just bad. He was hot in a gym rat sort of way but he couldn't act to save himself. It was around the ten minute mark, when her husband is meeting with his mistress—a bottle blonde with giant tits and no talent—when he knew something was up. Eyes still locked on the screen, he called Cas, who answered with a confused 'hello, Dean.'

"Cas, where did you find this movie?" Dean kept watching as the man kissed the woman with way too much tongue for a mainstream movie, even one made for cable.

"I googled it, Dean. I was looking for similar titles to watch with you. Are you not enjoying it? I can hear your rapid heartbeat from here." Cas sounded so forlorn that Dean just kept watching. He let the movie progress from kissing, to groping, to some steamy wall action.

"Cas, do you know what this is?" Dean looked down to the slowly swelling bulge in his lap, as Cas answered.

"I don't understand. I simply…" Cas stopped talking mid sentence just as the woman dropped to her knees and popped open the man's fly as he pawed at her.

"Oh." Cas' voice sounded lower than ever. "I didn't realise."  
"Yeah, oh." Dean still watched as the woman licked her glossy lips. Her skirt had been lifted to show lacy panties and the man left white marks as he leaned down to grip her bare thigh.

Minutes later, Dean heard Cas gasp just as the man drove forward gently and she moaned.

Overall, it was a pretty good looking scene and lil Dean seemed to agree. The way Cas was breathing down the line suggested he was enjoying it too.

Dean didn't know why he hadn't hung up by now. Well, that was a lie. He knew exactly why he was still laying there, with Cas' needy little noises in his ear. He'd wanted this since Castiel’s first blown out light bulb.

"Cas?" Dean bit the bullet, hoping to play this off as idle curiosity if it went south, or rather, failed to go south. He cleared his throat. "You okay?"

Jesus Christ, his voice was rough.

"I find myself enjoying this one more than the other."

Dean huffed out a laugh.

"I bet, Cas. Me too."

On screen, they unnaturally progressed through positions, the man doing most of the doing.

"What do you think of that, Cas? Tempting?" Dean felt a spike of worry before Cas could answer. What if this was his favorite bit?

"Not really, Dean. While it seems as if she takes great pleasure in the act, I don't know anyone that I care about enough that has those particular…parts. I am, however, very interested in her role in the proceedings," Cas practically gasped out. The familiar formal speech contrasting gorgeously with his unfamiliar breathlessness.

Dean's brain did a double take and before his mouth caught up he blurted out.

"You want some guy to do that to you?!"

Dean slammed his eyes and mouth shut, ashamed at what he had just said to his best friend-slash-Angel of the Lord.

"Not just some guy, Dean. I have found myself enamoured with the concept of pursuing a romantic and/or sexual relationship with a particular male I am acquainted with."

Contrary to popular belief, Dean wasn't stupid. He knew that realistically he was the only man that Cas might have these urges for.

"Cas," Dean gasped. "M...me too." He damn near bit through his lip when Cas whined happily.

"I want…something. I can't tell. Help me?" Cas already sounded desperate, the sensations he may be feeling for the first time, overwhelming him.

"Okay, Cas, calm down, breathe for me. You're fine. Where are you?"

"I…I'm on your bed, I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Cas," Dean soothed. "It's okay, I get it. Can you tell me what you feel?"

"I'm hot all over. The man's noises are so visceral and…and with you on the phone it's easy for me to…to…" Cas' voice became muffled and sounded…wet?

"Do you have something in your mouth, angel?" Dean swallowed hard.

"Yesh," a quiet pop, "my fingers."

"Fuck, Cas." Dean debated for a second. "I'd love to see that, baby." Another endearment slipping out unbidden. "Can you take a picture? Please, Cas." Cas moaned then Dean heard the shutter noise. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath, waiting for the tone on the line.

Beep.

Breathing out slowly, he moved the phone from his ear and woke up the screen.

"Caaaassss," Dean groaned. His tie gone, shirt undone and leaning against Dean's headboard, Cas looked delicious. He had his first two fingers of his left hand firmly between his lips. The knuckles glistened as if he had been swirling his tongue around them, his eyes were closed and his hair was a disaster. It was by far the best thing Dean had ever seen. He had so far been trying to ignore below his belt but it was getting harder by the second. He pressed the heel of his hand against the obscene tent of thin blanket in his lap. He leaned forward to turn off the movie. The man was just going for it now so it didn't seem relevant.

"Why did you stop it, Dean? I thought you enjoyed these kinds of movies." Cas sounded wrecked and Dean hadn't even gotten started.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're more than enough."

"Deeeean," Cas keened desperately. "I've taken my clothes off now. Talk to me, Dean. Please."

"Okay, baby, this is gonna be quick but when I get home, we'll do it properly, yeah? ...I'll take that fucking gorgeous noise as a yes." Dean finally grabbed himself and squeezed. "Fuck. Okay, there's a purple bottle in my nightstand, it's behind, shit, it's behind the picture of you." That's embarrassing. "Just use a bit on your hand, wait a sec to let it warm," he was interrupted by Cas hissing, "up. Or not." Dean could hear the faint squelch as Cas just did what came naturally. "That's it, sweetheart, easy does it."

Cas' pants and moans became louder and closer together, Dean reveled in each one, matching them with his increasing pace. It was only a minute before Cas grunted, the headboard creaking against the wall then deep breathing. God, that sounded good and Dean wasn't far behind.

Doubts started to creep in, then stampede through Dean's mind. Cas halted them abruptly with a sated sigh.

"Thank you, Dean, that's exactly what I've been waiting for." He whispered, "I love you."

"Damn, Cas, that's great, that's really great because…I…I love you, too."

Dean left his phone connected on speaker, as did Cas and they murmured sweet nothings until they fell asleep.

Sam and Dean closed up the case fairly quickly after their meeting with the witness. Dean having noticed a clue in a photo of one of the perpetrators. A haunted paperweight, go figure.

Eager to get home and fulfill his promise, Dean relinquished the Impala to Sam, leaving him to tie up any loose ends, and left early in the thunderbird.

Cas met him at the door and they got to making up for lost time.

The End

[Back to the beginning... ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901538#workskin)


	18. You chose to fix the tailpipe...

Dean knew his way around a tailpipe so he was pretty confident he could fix the damn thing. He yanked open the trunk to see what a sorry excuse for a tool kit Cas might have and after rummaging around for a bit, all he found was a jack (useful) and a tire iron (not so useful). He looked up and around at the forecourt, hoping a hardware store would magically grow out of the ground. Unfortunately, that didn't happen but he did spy a woman hauling a large toolkit across the parking lot. Dean trotted over to her and called out to warn her he was drawing near. She turned, eyebrow raised and stopped, plonking the metal box at her feet. Ostensibly to keep her hands free and weight low, Dean thought, smart. Who knew what kind of crazy asshole would accost you at a service station. 

He raised his hands, wearing his most disarming smile, and asked sweetly,"Hey sweetheart, I couldn't trouble you for a lend of your tools? My friend doesn't know how to treat a lady and we lost a tailpipe." He amped up the southern charm a bit by default and hoped for the best. She just stared at him for a beat then scoffed. 

"Funny you should say that, I just got a call to bring this to the front. Looks like your 'friend' beat you to it." Oh. Dean shoulda realised Cas would want to get on with it. Wouldn't want to stay in some ratty motel with Dean for any longer than necessary. He deftly ignored the little voice saying that he was doing exactly the same thing and followed the handyperson to the office where, presumably, Cas was waiting for her. "I got some wire and heat tape in there too if you need it. We'll get her patched up." 

Dean pulled the door open and ushered her through, following just in time to hear the man behind the desk greet her.

"Thanks Beth, this here is Cas. Says his partner is having car trouble and hopes to fix it." Beth slung a thumb over her shoulder. 

"Yup, met this charmer in the lot." She hefted the toolbox up and pushed it into Dean's chest making him stumble backwards. Cas was at his side, grabbing the box and scowling at the woman. "Whoa there, sorry. Didn't mean anything by it." She raised her hands. "Just use what ya need and bring it on back here when you're done, okay?" 

Dean smiled weakly, thanked her with a small salute and dragged Cas out the door by his sleeve. 

"Hey, Cas, what was that about?" 

"The man in the office. He...made suggestions. Beth is his sister. Said that she had a thing for 'pretty guys' and he...said he was rather partial to dark hair and blue eyes. I was uncomfortable so I asked for the appropriate tools to facilitate a speedier departure." 

There was that feeling in Dean's gut again. The hot roil whenever someone hit on Cas. It happened more often these days, his recent growth in humanity seemed to pour out of him, making him glow a bit more from within. Shit. Focus and cut the poetic shit. 

Dean caught up to Cas at the car, then, gesturing for him to put the box down, he grabbed the jack and wiggled it at him. Cas stared at it blankly, looked up at Dean and tilted his head. Seriously? Been around since the dawn of time and doesn't know what a jack is. 

"Okay, Cas. You can wait inside. I'll see what I can do." Cas opened up the nearest door and, with a contrite last look at Dean, swung it shut behind him.

Dean clapped his hands together and got to work maneuvering the jack under the car. Once it was up about a foot, Dean couldn't help think about the time he thought he was under 'Little Bastard', sweating bullets, convinced the thing was gonna crush him. Fortunately, he could see the bracket that had rusted through and he thought he could just tape the pipe then wire it up to take the weight. Easy fix til he could do it properly. In theory. 

Dean reached out for the tool box to grab a screwdriver, fumbling around til he could feel what he needed. He poked at the rust surrounding the remainder of the pipe, hoping to lever some off to get the edge smooth enough to fix the exhaust back on. It was slow going and he promised himself he would give Cas a talking to about how to treat his wheels. 

Cars were simple. You looked after them, they looked after you.

In hindsight, he should really have been paying more attention. He'd forced the tip of the screwdriver under a particularly stubborn piece of crud and, of course, it had given way as his hand slipped. Driving the shank deep into the palm of his left hand. 

Dean froze as he took in what had happened so quickly. He blinked at the flat head of the screwdriver completely buried in the soft mound at the base of his thumb. Shit. He knew pulling it out would be a bloody mess but he couldn't very well climb out from under the car one handed. He dropped his head back, and groaned. 

"Cas?" he whispered. "Wanna come give me a hand, buddy?" Dean snorted, slightly delirious, at the unintended pun. A door opening and swish of a trenchcoat later, Cas' shoes appeared by Dean's thighs. Then his face, silhouetted by the sun now low over the highway. 

"Yes, Dean?" Cas squinted. "Are you alright, you are very pale. I can see your freckles from here." 

If Dean wasn't in minor shock, and if his blood hadn't been pounding through his hand, he would have blushed, hard. 

"Not really, Buddy. Can you help me out?" Dean asked weakly. He cradled his hand against his chest, bunching his shirt against the entry point, just in case. He watched Cas tilt his head, then step between Dean's knees. Cas' hands appeared and, without warning, hooked themselves under Dean's thighs and pulled. Dean yelped, only just managing to keep his head clear of the bottom of the car as he was dragged out from under it. Cas stopped with Dean's bowed legs encircling his and looked down at him. 

"Uh, Cas? Do you mind?" Cas' eyes widened and he stepped back, dropping Dean's legs.

"My apologies." He held out a hand to Dean and only then seemed to notice the injury. "Dean! What happened?!" Cas scowled at the offending piece of metal and Dean was surprised the thing didn't just melt away. "Let’s get inside." 

Before Dean could utter a single syllable, Cas dipped down and scooped Dean up into a bridal carry, hurrying toward the motel door. He carried him swiftly over the threshold and straight to the tiny bathroom. Dean gaped at him, completely unable to form any kind of coherent objection as he let himself be lifted then placed gently on the sink unit. 

Cas held Dean's hand in his palm to inspect the wound. He looked up at him, regret in his blue eyes. 

"I'm sorry, Dean, I'm not sure I can heal this as well as I used to. It is very deep." 

"Just use the kit, man. I'm good," Dean soothed. 

"No, I can do it. Just...slowly." Cas brought his face so close to Dean's palm that he could feel his breath ghosting across his fingers. He placed his thumb over the area and pulled the screwdriver out very, very slowly. Dean hissed but soon realised Cas had numbed the pain considerably as he worked. Keeping up the pressure with his thumb, when the shaft came free he put it aside and looked up in to Dean's eyes. 

"How does that feel? It's not knitted fully but all the pain should leave you soon and the bleeding has stopped." Cas was still very close and Dean's brain hadn't rebooted yet so he just stared at the point of contact between them.

"It's still pretty painful, Cas," Dean whispered. 

Without taking his eyes off him, Cas brought Dean's palm to his mouth and laid a small kiss there. Dean's eyes widened and Cas looked away, heat coloring his beautiful cheekbones. 

Cas' large hand cupping his, the thumb he was still stroking across the wound and Cas' blush all made for a powerful incentive to just…lean in. He brought his other hand to Cas' cheek and urged their eye contact back. Who knew how much time passed as the men just looked at each other, gentle caresses from thumbs across palms and jawline. 

Dean tipped forward as Cas straightened, their lips meeting, softly, slowly. A single chaste kiss then they broke apart, smiling goofily at each other. 

"Mmm, all better. Thanks, Cas," Dean murmured into Cas' ear, their temples pressed together, closer than they'd ever been but not quite close enough. He would fix that later but for now, Dean was just happy to finally hold his angel's hand and, judging by the soft sigh, Cas was too. 

The End


	19. You chose to call Sam...

Dean poked around in the trunk, only managing to scrounge up a tire iron and a jack. That, at least would come in handy, but he knew it would take a bit more to get them back on the road. He knew a few tricks but, as he looked across at Cas through the reception window, he didn't actually want to risk it. He sighed and went to let Cas know they wouldn't need too long. 

"Hey, Cas, hold up." The young woman behind the desk looked between them, down at the hand Dean had absentmindedly placed on Cas' lower back, and smirked. 

"Car trouble was it, sir? Just need a night?" Dean didn't appreciate the glint in her eye and brought his hand away as casually as possible. 

"Actually, I don't think we'll need that long. I'll call Sam to get us. Coupla hours should do it." Dean, by instinct, tried to 'no-homo' the situation by slapping a hand to Cas' shoulder but instantly felt ashamed. Of himself. Cas didn't deserve that but he also didn't deserve to be confused with a dirty lay at a truck stop. 

"We’ll pick up the Pimpmobile on the way back." Okay, that probably didn't help the general impression they were giving. Cas merely looked his standard level of confused when Dean was being an asshole, as he handed over a twenty in exchange for a giant key fob. 

"Room fifteen. Enjoy!” The attendant's smirk intensified as Dean glared over his shoulder, only realising after the door closed that his hand had returned to Cas' back. Son of a bitch! 

The smell of the room belied its usual application but it had a TV and a plastic wrapped couch so it would do. He pulled out his phone to call Sam, who agreed to pick them up with a bigger than necessary sigh and a practically audible bitchface. 

Hanging up, Dean slouched down next to Cas, the plastic squeaking horribly, to watch the telenovela he had picked. 

Dean would never admit it but these were his real favorite things to watch with Cas as he would lean in and translate, breath ghosting across Dean's ear, sending goose flesh everywhere. Today was no different as Cas moved closer, repeating the lines of fiery lovers in a deep murmur. Their eyes locked, Dean thinking for just a moment that maybe these were Cas' favorites too. Dean sighed, got comfy, and hoped Sam got held up just a little. He let the dulcet tones wash over him, tuning out the shrill drama happening on screen. Cas didn't quite nail the emotional nuance but it was all the same to Dean, drifting in and out of the TV glow. 

Baby's horn woke him. He'd know that sound anywhere. He shot up from where he had been drooling against Cas' shoulder. Casting about blearily, he caught Cas smiling softly at him and couldn't help getting caught up in it, smiling goofily back at him. 

Baby's horn sounded again, proving that Sam didn't even need to be in the room to be an interrupting moose. Dean hauled himself up, dragging Cas with him, and grabbed the key. 

By the time Cas had dropped the room key off, Dean and Sam had moved the bags over and Dean had settled in behind the wheel where he belonged. 

"Right, Sammy, where we going?" 

An hour later found them at Sam's slightly more upmarket motel. 

"I booked the last room when you called."

Dean gaped at him for a full ten seconds. 

" Wha? A single? For us?" Dean squeaked. 

"Um, Cas doesn't sleep?" Sam pointed out with a frown and Dean huffed out a laugh. 

"Oh! That may have changed." he looked to Cas to clarify. 

"While in theory I usually don't sleep, I need time to rest and meditate. It is very like sleep and conserves my Grace now that my connection to heaven is diminished." Cas finished with a look of regret and Dean immediately rubbed a friendly, platonic, bro hand across his shoulders to comfort him. 

"Oh, I'm sorry." Sam's eyes flicked up to the sign that now said 'no vacancies'. "Maybe they have a cot? Dean, why don't you go find out while I give Cas the info I sent you because you probably didn't share it, did you?" 

"Um…I have…not. Sorry, ok, I'll go."

[Ask for cot?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56909146)

[Don't ask for cot?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56909161)


	20. You chose to take Cas...

Cas' head tipped ever so slightly, his blue eyes closing to a squint. Right, yeah, Dean was saying something, wasn't he? Cas' lips parted and Dean felt himself leaning just a bit.

"Yes, Dean?" Okay, maybe not infinitely patient as Cas now raised his eyebrow. Dean knew an eye roll might be in his future so he looked away and got on with it. 

"Sam needs some help. Wanna come?" Dean said this while staring at his feet and blushing furiously like he was asking a girl to fucking prom or something. He risked a look and, now, Cas was smiling. 

"Of course, Dean." 

Dean grinned, he felt his cheeks lift so that he could actually see them and skipped between his feet for a couple of steps. Dumb butterflies. He still hadn't really decided if this was a good idea or not and the way just asking him to come was making him feel then he was embarking on a slippery slope. Ah, screw it. If he didn't ask him he was just gonna worry about him while he was gone anyway. Who was he kidding? He let out an internal breath.

"Awesome, let's roll."

Dean grabbed his go bag and left Cas to do the same. He had noticed that Cas had his own duffle now which was just weird. With the trench and all, Dean half expected Cas to carry a briefcase or satchel. He idly wondered what an angel would need to carry around. What human technology was he using to supplement his failing grace? Toothbrush? Razor? He must be maintaining that designer stubble somehow. Maybe he was even carrying weapons. That was all kinds of hot and Dean's upstairs brain would have to have a serious talk with his downstairs brain before things got too exciting.

Upon entering the garage, Dean was reminded that Sam had taken the Impala. Cas' pimp mobile was here but he a) didn't 100% trust that car or 2) want Cas driving anywhere near his hair trigger libido. 

Dean took the keys to a gorgeous Thunderbird and stood at the drivers door. He noticed Cas hadn't followed him and he turned to see him standing at his Lincoln. 

"Dean?" Puppy dog eyes at full force. 

"Come on, Cas, just look at this beauty!" Dean patted the car's flank like a horse. Ah shit. Cas was pouting now. 

[Take the Thunderbird?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56908699)

[Take the Lincoln?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56902618)


	21. You chose to ask for a cot...

Dean loitered in the shabby reception area so long the attendant actually looked up from their phone to ask if he needed anything. 

"Uh, yeah. Do you have a cot I could use. I have an unexpected guest." He crossed his fingers behind his back then internally cursed when a large, surly man was summoned from the back with a folded army surplus cot in his arms. 

"Right, thanks," Dean uttered weakly. He considered dumping it somewhere and claiming they didn't have one but on reflection realised that it's probably not the best idea to force his best friend into bed with him. He sighed, scrubbed a hand over his face, and hauled the cot to their room. 

Dean found Cas in Sam's room surrounded by newspapers and notebooks filled with Sam's weird ass handwriting. Both men looked up at Dean as he noisily barged in but quickly went back to their research. 

Dean spotted his key on the kitchenette counter, and —as he was in the next room—unlocked the adjoining door from Sam's side, then went round to put the cot up. He regretted asking for the damn thing almost immediately as the damn thing was like the Krypton Factor and he managed to jam his fingers in the mechanism more than once. He considered giving up more than once but reconsidered when he imagined Cas trying to do it later. While it would have been hilarious, he couldn't bring himself to risk Cas' flawless hands when Dean's calloused mess could do it. 

Upon unlocking the shared door from his side, he examined the heater, then cranked it up a bit. He was tempted to pull off his extra layers for comfort but now that he was further north and the sun had gone down early, there was a distinct chill in the air. While he waited for a bit of heat, he laid down, kicked his shoes off, and pulled the edge of the comforter over him. 

Dean was startled from his dozing by the tortured squeal of Cas sitting down heavily on the cot. 

"My apologies, Dean, sleep well."

Dean drifted off to sleep again only to wake up a couple of hours later, shivering violently. His teeth chattered so he tried to cocoon himself as best he could. 

"Dean?" Cas whispered out if the darkness, sounding strained. "Are you alright?" 

"M'fine, Cas. Just cold," Dean mumbled into his pillow. 

"Me too." Cas sounded scared. Dean supposed Cas hadn't been cold before. He got up, comforter around his shoulders and approached the ancient heater. He fiddled with a few switches then peered at the indicator light at the back. Well, where there should have been an indicator light. Shit. Fuse must have gone or something. He'd need a new fuse and, if it wasn't that, some tools to fix it. Dean could just make out Cas sitting up in the cot through the gloom. Dean sighed. It seemed they had two options. Drag the cot through next door to Sammy's (hopefully) still heated room or invite Cas on to the bed to, y'know, share body heat. 

Dean bit his lip. He knew which was the most tempting offer, which was exactly the problem. Can he risk a repeat of last night or should he play it safe? Bonus points for annoying Sam though. 

[Invade Sam's room and share with Captain Kicks-in-his-Sleep?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56909191)

[Share the bed with Cas?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56909227)


	22. You chose to not ask for a cot...

Dean dithered in the reception area so long the attendant actually looked up from their phone and asked if he needed anything. 

"Uh, yeah, you…um…" Dean knew he shouldn't manipulate circumstances to force Cas to be his bed mate but, he reasoned with himself, what other chance would he get to wake up comfortable and safe and not alone with a start? The attendant rolled their eyes and went back to their phone. "Nevermind," Dean stuttered to the top of their head. Feeling pretty guilty, Dean made his way back to Sam's room. He found his brother and angel deep in discussion over a mound of research, both men looked up as he entered, wearing twin frowns. 

"No cot?" Sam asked. Dean couldn't bring himself to lie out loud, despite being particularly talented at it, so he shook his head and shrugged. 

Dean spotted his key on the kitchenette counter and noticed he was only one over. He unlocked his side of the adjoining door so he could get in later. Pulling off his jacket he sat down to join in with the research. 

"So, what we got? Anything new?" 

Sam went over the case again with a few interjections from Cas and they all seemed to agree with the theory that it was a cursed object. Unfortunately, none of the victims had anything immediately obvious in common so there were no solid leads. 

"The latest victim was a woman in her late 30's. An artist, mother of a grown son, wife of a local banker. She was at dinner with her best friend and his husband when the friend broke a wine glass and stabbed her with it. He claims he doesn't remember any of it. He's in custody a town over. Not much we can do for him but we can stop this thing from striking again."

Dean nodded along, face screwed up as he thought. 

"Where were they eating and can we talk to the husbands?" 

"We're meeting Eric Mathers—that's the friend’s husband—at the restaurant in the morning." Sam put his phone down and yawned hugely. "Alright, I'm going to bed." He flapped his hands to shoo them from the room. 

"Okay, okay, we're going!" Dean opened up the room next door, letting Cas take the lead, then dumped his duffle on the large bed. He was pleased to see the only other furniture was an armchair pointed at a sizable TV. Dean flicked the lock of the adjoining door before he forgot. 

"I will sit here, Dean and watch TV while you sleep. Pretend I am not here." Cas took off his trench coat inordinately slowly. Yeah, Dean thought, as if pretending Cas wasn't around ever worked. Dean watched the impromptu strip tease raptly, only turning away when Cas stopped at his shirtsleeves. He busied himself in the bathroom while Cas flicked through the four and a half channels the motel provided, and, once he felt calm enough, slid into bed. 

Cas was already situated in the armchair, ostensibly to meditate, intently watching the telenovellas he liked. Dean was suddenly annoyed that there was even a damn armchair in here at all! Against his better judgment—which didn't stand a chance when Cas could be whispering translations in his ear—he called out quietly. 

"Cas? What's happening?" 

"Apologies, Dean. Would you like to watch something else?" Cas had raised the remote and wiggled it at Dean like a dork. Dean was quick to tell him no but could he translate it like he normally would. "Of course, Dean." 

He began to recite the lines in English and quite often his sentences were shorter than those on screen. He seemed frustrated, raising his voice for Dean to hear him. 

"I'm sorry, Dean. While I will always be endowed with advanced linguistic ability, my hearing is suffering. I cannot hear and translate so loudly at the same time." Dean gave him a long, hard look. Was it too much to hope that was just a flimsy excuse to join him on the bed? It seemed thin to him. He gulped. Change the channel or invite Cas closer? On to the bed closer? 

As Dean stared at Cas' beautiful profile, highlighted by the glow of the TV, he realised there was no choice this time. He drew back the comforter beside him, which caught Cas' attention, and patted the sheet. Cas' eyes widened and he nodded, bending to remove his shoes, placing them neatly aside and rising slowly. Dean gulped again as he watched him. The movements so enticing, despite being so ordinary, simply because it was Cas. 

Down to his boxers and undershirt now, Cas perched on the side of the bed before Dean guided him closer by his naked elbow. Cas settled back against the headboard, a mere inch between them on the large bed. 

On screen a handsome man addressed a beautiful woman. They gazed at each other before embracing. Dean didn't really need to speak Spanish to understand it was a declaration of love. Cas translated huskily, his cadence shaking slightly, the words ghosting over the shell of Dean's ear. 

~ El azul de tus ojos, como el cielo que eres. ~

"The blue of your eyes, like the heaven you are." Dean turned to Cas at this, the words feeling familiar, if only in context. Dean watched as Cas waited for the next line, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. He was still watching him when he turned to translate, the tone of his gesture already more genuine, more profound than before. 

Their noses nearly brushed as Cas whispered the next line. 

"Y los tuyos son el verde de un nuevo día. Te adoro." He swallowed, "and yours the green of a fresh new day." He licked his lips. "I adore you." Cas looked at him with wide eyes, until he smirked gently. "It's better in Spanish."

Nope, nuh uh, this was beyond Dean's control. He'd tried, he'd failed. Resistance lost, Dean pushed forward, pressing their lips together finally. Cas sighed, pushing back, and reaching up to cradle Dean's face as he deepened the kiss. 

The shrill sound of the TV lovers being caught by another woman where silenced with a flick of Cas' wrist. Their gentle kisses escalated until Dean was lying back and being straddled by a very enthusiastic angel. 

There was no point in regretting all the time wasted when Cas reached for the bottom of Dean's t-shirt and leaning into each other, Cas yanked it up and over Dean's head. Doing the same to Cas' left them bare chest to bare chest, panting into each others mouths. 

Dean always loved those Spanish Novellas, but now, he had an entirely new appreciation for them. They lead him to this. 

Dean woke slowly and comfortably within a deep sense of safety, just as he had optimistically promised himself the night before. He sighed deeply as Cas pulled him closer to his chest, nuzzling into his hair. The warm bliss lasted roughly eight minutes before the adjoining door flung open and Sam marched through with a hand over his eyes. 

"First, I'm happy for you. Second, why so fucking loud? I'm moving to a room further away when we get back, maybe even out of the bunker." He shuddered theatrically. "And last, we're supposed to meet the killer's husband in twenty minutes!" 

Dean made to move and Sam raised his spare hand. "Nope, you stay here and wash the stank off. I'm going alone. I'll call if I need you.” Sam left muttering about there being no point in them even being there, slamming the door behind him. 

Dean turned in Cas' arms, snuffling against his neck and breathing in his warmth as he drifted to sleep again. 

An indeterminate time later, Dean was again woken up by his brother. Sam slapped a manilla file against his shoulder, earning him a scowl from Cas that Dean could just see through his bleariness, and declared the case solved. 

Dean yawned and stretched before congratulating him. 

"Good for you, Sammy." Then promptly resumed nuzzling Cas. Sam wretched and, again, left with the door slamming behind him. 

Dean's body shook, not only with his own laughter but, surprisingly, with Cas' too. The deep rumble through his chest unfamiliar but so welcome. Dean leaned up and pecked Cas on the lips, once, twice and once again for luck. 

"Okay, let's see what Sammy went up against…" He scanned the contents on the file and snorted. "A haunted paperweight? Really?" 

It turned out that a pure gold ornament had once adorned the desk of a particularly strict, but fair, judge. He was known as the most honest man in the state but met his grisly end at the hands of his wife's lover. Seems the item was sold to a jeweller at an estate sale in a box of random antiques and trinkets. They had always handled it with gloves so had never come under attack from the ghost.

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for Anika's killer, who, while wearing the ring, could see the 'truth' of his husband and Anika's relationship. Apparently they had a fling in the past before meeting their respective spouses and, upon getting the time frame confused, assumed the worst. The ghost took advantage and leapt in to attack his spouse's 'lover.' The other victims had similar fates. 

A housewife, Alexandra Horne, had ended up in the hospital after her son had struck her with the soccer trophy she had told him was from his school. She had simply been trying to spare his feelings after a loss. 

Architect, Greg Wu, had given his wife a locket in its box. She had choked him with it after learning he had lost his job and not told her. 

"Yeesh, the truth can be a real bitch, huh?" 

"I don't know, Dean. If we'd been honest with each other before," he dragged a hand up the nude flesh of Dean's thigh, "we could have been doing this," ran the hand around his back and up between his shoulder blades, "much," kiss on the forehead, "much," kiss to Dean's nose, "sooner." Cas finished by kissing the breath from Dean and rolling them both to straddle him again. Their gazes held, as Dean's fingers trailed lazily over Cas' heart. 

"I adore you…"

The End

[Back to the beginning... ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901538#workskin)


	23. You chose to share with Sam...

Dean groaned and threw his head back onto his pillow. He knew he was making the right decision, the noble decision. He was a gentleman, damn it. He couldn't let the fact that he was clearly touch starved make his choices for him. 

"Come on, Cas, grab the blankets and follow me." Dean hefted the cot under his arm and led Cas noisily through to Sam's room. Bashing the bundle of metal and canvas against every available surface. 

"Wha-?" Sam shot up and Dean snorted at his brother’s insane bed hair. 

"S'fucking freezing in there. Move over."

Dean deposited the cot near the —thankfully working— heater, then slapped Sam's shoulder until he slid over with a huff. 

"Keep your gigantor feet to yourself, okay?" Sam just rolled over without a word and settled back in to sleep. 

"Dean?" Cas' voice again whispered out of the dark. "Thank you."

Dean smiled to himself as he got as comfortable as possible while sharing a bed with a moose. 

Come daybreak, Dean awoke to an empty bed and a dismantled cot. 

"Sam went for a run. He's going to bring back breakfast." Cas was sitting at the kitchen table reading from a large Cyrillic book. Dean rubbed his face and smacked his lips. 

"Ugh, piss, coffee," Dean grunted as he hauled himself out of bed. Overly warm in the way you get when you sleep fully clothed. 

Ablutions done, Dean dropped heavily in front of the coffee Cas had poured him and stared at the side of the angels face while he drank it. 

As he watched, Cas twitched. Eyes darting across the page, pink tongue flicking out to the tip of a slender finger, twitch, repeat. Dean frowned as the twitching turned to fidgeting which only got worse as Cas obviously tried to hold himself still. 

"Cas?" Dean plonked his mug down and leaned forward to catch Cas' eye. "What's with the wigglin'?" He shimmied in his seat to illustrate. 

"It is not of import." Cas kept his head down but stretched his neck from side to side. Dean raptly watched the tendons of Cas' neck flex as he waited for him to spill. Dean counted in his head. Five…four…three…two…

"I…the…um…" Cas wouldn't look at Dean which was damned unusual in itself. Cas sighed and looked to the ceiling, then finally, reluctantly, looked Dean in the eye. 

"I suppose the best way to describe my predicament is in a physical term you might comprehend. My marginal coverts have amalgamated with my alula and my scapular may have shifted." Cas seemed ashamed to share this information but Dean simply blinked at him, mouth moving soundlessly as he fought to find a better word than 'huh?' 

"Huh?" 

"My wings, Dean. I manifested them for warmth last night and now they are uncomfortably disarrayed." Cas rolled his shoulders then shucked off his coat. Dean watched, utterly engrossed in the play of muscles through his cheap shirt. Only when Cas started to remove his tie—pulling it from side to side roughly to loosen the knot—Dean started his own squirming and needed to shut this strip tease down now. Like, immediately. Cas started in on his buttons and Dean bit his lip. In a minute maybe…

[Shut it down?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56909305)

[Offer to help?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56909272)


	24. You chose to share a bed with Cas...

Despite the alarm bells blaring in his head, Dean let his affections get the better of him. Cas sounded so miserable and Dean was just so cold. Sam would be pleased they didn't bust in on him so he'd get some brownie points for that? Okay, now he was just making excuses and he hadn't even asked the guy if he even wanted to snuggle. Survive the bitter cold. Whatever. 

"Cas?" 

"Yes, Dean?" Cas whispered. "Are you alright?" 

Dammit, Cas, always thinking of others. 

"Um, I'm colder than before, I think it may have snowed. Can you…nevermind."

The room shifted into uncomfortable silence while both men shuffled around. 

"Dammit, Cas!" Dean whisper shouted, "get over here." More silence. That wasn't exactly how that was supposed to go. Dean ran a palm over his face and groaned. "I mean, if you're cold or whatever. Wecansharebodyheat." Dean's words ran together but presumably Cas understood as he was next to the bed almost immediately, plucking at the blankets. He laid his own over the top and slid in. 

Dean was instantly much warmer, Cas seemingly running hotter than a human. It was only moments before he felt himself slipping into blissful sleep. 

Dean woke slowly and comfortably within a deep sense of safety, just as he had optimistically promised himself the night before. He sighed deeply as Cas pulled him closer to his chest, nuzzling into his hair. The warm bliss lasted roughly eight minutes before the adjoining door flung open and Sam marched through with a hand over his eyes. 

"First, I'm happy for you. Second, we're supposed to meet the killer's husband in twenty minutes!" 

Dean made to move and Sam raised his spare hand. "Nope, you stay here and snuggle. I'm going alone. I'll call if I need you.” Sam left muttering about there being no point in them even being there, slamming the door behind him. 

Dean turned in Cas' arms, snuffling against his neck and breathing in his warmth as he drifted to sleep again. 

An indeterminate time later, Dean was again woken up by his brother. Sam slapped a manilla file against his shoulder, earning him a scowl from Cas that Dean could just see through his bleariness, and declared the case solved. 

Dean yawned and stretched before congratulating him. 

"Good for you, Sammy." Then promptly resumed nuzzling Cas. Sam wretched and, again, left with the door slamming behind him. 

Dean's body shook, not only with his own laughter but, surprisingly, with Cas' too. The deep rumble through his chest unfamiliar but so welcome. Dean leaned up and pecked Cas on the lips, once, twice and once again for luck. 

"Okay, let's see what Sammy went up against…" He scanned the contents on the file and snorted. "A haunted paperweight? Really?" 

It turned out that a pure gold ornament had once adorned the desk of a particularly strict, but fair, judge. He was known as the most honest man in the state but met his grisly end at the hands of his wife's lover. Seems the item was sold to a jeweller at an estate sale in a box of random antiques and trinkets. They had always handled it with gloves so had never come under attack from the ghost.

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for Anika's killer, who, while wearing the ring, could see the 'truth' of his husband and Anika's relationship. Apparently they had a fling in the past before meeting their respective spouses and, upon getting the time frame confused, assumed the worst. The ghost took advantage and leapt in to attack his spouse's 'lover.' The other victims had similar fates. 

A housewife, Alexandra Horne, had ended up in the hospital after her son had struck her with the soccer trophy she had told him was from his school. She had simply been trying to spare his feelings after a loss. 

Architect, Greg Wu, had given his wife a locket in its box. She had choked him with it after learning he had lost his job and not told her. 

"Yeesh, the truth can be a real bitch, huh?" 

"I don't know, Dean. If we'd been honest with each other before," he dragged a hand up the nude flesh of Dean's thigh, "we could have been doing this," ran the hand around his back and up between his shoulder blades, "much," kiss on the forehead, "much," kiss to Dean's nose, "sooner." Cas finished by kissing the breath from Dean and rolling them both to straddle him again. Their gazes held, as Dean's fingers trailed lazily over Cas' heart. 

"I adore you…"

The End


	25. You chose to offer to help...

Maybe another minute. Dean came to his senses a further minute later as Cas shucked his shirt, jumping to his feet, chair flying out behind him. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Go to our room, buddy." Cas stood awkwardly, stretching his neck slowly and lifting his arms. 

Flex, roll. Flex, roll. Jesus. 

Dean hesitantly laid a hand on the warm skin of Cas' bare back and ushered him to their room. 

Dean kicked the door closed behind them and took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to suggest but he still froze when Cas took a step closer, still writhing. 

"Dean, would you…I mean…could I trouble you, if you're amenable…um…" Cas rambled and Dean leant forward to maintain eye contact as Cas tried to avoid it. 

"Want me to help you out?" Dean gestured vaguely behind him, and flapped his hands a little in a gross parody of Cas' wings. Cas glared at him briefly then sagged. 

"Yes, please," he said quietly. "It's not something I would ask just anyone to do. Not Sam or Hannah, or even Gabriel. To do this physically, without Grace? It's intimate…and not in a familial way." Cas was bright red by this point and by the heat he could feel in his face, Dean imagined he was too. 

"Wow, Cas, I'm…I don't know what to say but thanks. For letting me in, I mean. We'll get you sorted out." Dean had been avoiding looking at the bare skin on display but now took a long look. Cas' chest was as close to perfect as he'd seen in real life. Smooth, toned and nicely tanned. He fixated briefly on a lovely little mole sitting just above Cas' right nipple. His gaze drifted downwards to the trail of fuzz laying tantalizingly close to…Cas cleared his throat and Dean's head shot up. 

"Sorry, sorry, I got distracted." He smiled—something lopsided and apologetic—but Cas just smirked at him, a frustratingly knowing expression, as Dean fidgeted. "Okay, what do I do?" 

"Stand back." Cas took a step into the center of the room as Dean stumbled backwards, his nerves more frayed than on any hunt. Dean watched, mouth open, as Cas' whole body tensed, his eyes lowered as shadows grew behind him, blocking the light from the motel forecourt and muting the overhead fluorescents. The mass filled the room, casting negative prints across the walls. Cas' wings stood as the absence of light against the faded geometric wallpaper. The extensions shuddered as Cas shook himself. 

"I thought you said they were feathers," Dean gasped. 

"They can be if you like. Technically, each shaft is a wavelength of celestial intent but the vanes are made up of fermions that contain every substance in the universe at a smaller than molecular scale. Simply put, my 'wings'," Dean gaped at the peculiarity of Cas using actual air quotes mid anatomy-slash-physics lecture, "are akin to miniature, psychic, black holes. Each have the density of a small sun yet their structure is described like a birds wing in order to contain their form on a three dimensional plane. If I were to describe it philosophically rather than quantum mechanically, I would be inclined to define them as being created by perception. You want to see wings. You see wings." Cas shrugged and the light in the room rippled. Dean was at a loss. 

He wasn't stupid by any means and he felt as though he had the jist of it despite not knowing the definitions of some of the words. He supposed that the concepts involved were along the same lines as a djinn or a tulpa. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the exposed angel waiting patiently in the middle of the dank carpet. 

Like a Magic Eye picture, the shapes focused into more detail. Each random spark and badly defined area sharpening to reveal a set of corvid-like wings, snapping into existence. 

Cas looked over each shoulder approvingly and turned back to Dean with a smile. 

"Perfect. Now each point of discomfort can be identified by your, unfortunately limited, perceptions." Cas looked pleased, his eyes soft and face relaxed, despite his, now much more solid wings, still twitching. 

Dean shook his head, clearing the fog of 'information-to-be-processed-later' and took a step or two forward. 

"So they're warmer like this?" Dean asked, hand already raised in anticipation of touching the glossy darkness. Cas chuckled. 

"Yes, apparently so. I must have manifested them in my sleep. They were probably very fluffy!" Dean laughed along with him, imagining Cas as a baby bird, with proofed up feathers and a disgruntled tilt to his head. 

Cas, while still amused, turned anxious, fidgeting under the scrutiny. Dean had been drawn forward, unaware of how close he'd gotten until the very tips of his fingers brushed the very tip of a feather and both men gasped. 

"Wow. You okay?" Dean asked, wanting but waiting to touch again. 

"Yes, no one else has ever touched them in this form before. I had no idea. By their very nature they are intrinsically linked to my vess…body now."

Dean noticed Cas' slip up but Jimmy was long gone, leaving Cas with a shape that suited him. The way Cas seemed to be 100% done with everyone at any given time, worked well with the thick arms he crossed when he was pissed. The way he rolled his eyes with his entire body and gesticulated with those graceful hands. If Dean could have built a vessel for Cas, it wouldn't have been any different. 

Cas hung his head and panted slightly as Dean grew bolder, stroking the soft outer edge of a wing. 

"Is…is this okay?" Dean whispered, totally enthralled by the tingling sensation dancing over his fingertips. "This is kinda weird." Cas tensed. "Good weird." Dean was quick to clarify and Cas relaxed again, leaning into his touch. Dean let the pressure force his fingers deeper into the plumage, the electric feeling covered his hand, with occasional shudders running from Cas' spine and all the way to Dean's shoulder. 

After a deep sigh and, who knows how long, just gently clutching a primary, Dean moved behind Cas to survey the damage. He couldn't see anything that seemed too out of place but here or there a feather tucked oddly behind another and the fluffier parts at the top had a few abnormal tufts. 

Dean fiddled with a few barbs, straightening them, tugging on a few others to rearrange them. He dislodged a few feathers that then simply disintegrated before they even hit the floor. The lighter parts looked and acted like the flyaway hair that he would normally smooth down with wax, and using knowledge imparted to him by Sir David Attenborough, he slipped a careful hand just below Cas' shoulders at the root of the wing. He ran his thumb along the bone gently until Cas sighed happily. 

"What are you doing?" Cas murmured. He was clearly enjoying the most basic of skin contact but still cognizant enough to question why Dean might be feeling him up. 

"Looking for your glands." Dean continued to probe gently. 

"My whats?" Cas laughed and Dean froze. 

"...oil glands?" he asked in a small voice. Cas' shoulders shook as he practically giggled. 

"I'm not a bird, Dean! What on earth made you think I would have oil glands?!" Cas snorted and Dean lay his head in the space between Cas' wings, thoroughly mortified and feeling betrayed by the BBC. 

"Can you blame me?" Dean muttered defensively, flicking a covert gently. Cas still laughed softly and, as Dean mumbled about nature documentaries, stuck up Brits, and 'how was I supposed to know, smartass', he absentmindedly pressed his thumbs into the bony nubs of Cas' shoulder blades, eliciting a lovely gasp. 

Castiel slumped, barely on his feet, so Dean placed a shaking hand at the small of his back to direct him to sit down. Now with Cas perched on the corner of the bed, Dean found himself with the very tops of Cas' wings at eye level. Curiosity got the better of him and with his fists clenched at his sides, he blew gently of the soft dander. Cas shivered bodily and all out moaned. 

"Shit, sorry." Dean stepped away but Cas' hand shot out and stopped him. 

"It's okay." Cas ran his thumb gently along Dean's wrist then tangled their fingers together awkwardly, dragging Dean closer. "Do it again," Cas whispered. "Please?"

Dan ran his free hand over his face, stopping with his knuckles at his lips. His heart was pounding, knowing he had miles of tan skin and soft, smooth antimatter in front of him. One hand drifted to a shoulder blade, the other buried itself in a bank of feathers. The tingling from earlier, now an all out buzz, like a madly purring cat, moved pleasantly through his chest. 

With his hands now occupied, he leaned forward and blew softly over the very top of Cas' wing again. Along with a full body shudder, the feeling intensified, starting a feedback loop of something simmering, getting warmer as Dean smoothed his hand down Cas' back. His other hand clutched involuntarily at feathers now flickering in and out of perception. 

Dean pressed himself the length of Cas' back, losing himself in the sensations of Cas' out of control hums and pulses. 

Cas swung around, startling Dean into stepping back, hands still hovering in front of him. Cas' wings snapped forward, the visage of feathers fading into inky blackness, and pulled Dean back to him. Cas' chest to Dean's belly, he looked up at him with wide eyes. 

Dean could do nothing but stare into blue depths glowing in the darkness of their cocoon. Cas' hands came up slowly, hesitantly circling Dean's hips and turned his head to lay it against his sternum. 

Dean felt Cas freeze, holding his breath, waiting. 

When he looked down at the messy, dark hair of the best friend he'd ever had, the angel who had all but fallen for him; apparently, in more ways than one and Cas let out a sad little sigh and started to pull away, it broke Dean. His hands shot to Cas' hair, his fingers going deep, holding Cas to his chest. 

He was certain Cas could hear his heart beating out of his chest, it's rhythm surely matching the wild tempo of Cas' wing vibrations. Cas sighed again, this time clearly happier as his arms snaked tighter to link his hands behind Dean's back. 

Dean closed his eyes and hung his head, carding his fingers through Cas' hair. 

In this space, breathing together, thrumming with potential, the outside world was muted. Even Cas didn't notice the adjoining door open and, this time, Dean's interrupting moose of a brother simply smiled, grabbed Baby's keys and closed the door behind him. 

Much later, Dean was woken by a slap to the head. Squinting into the light, he growled at the manilla envelope being shoved in his face. 

"What the fuck, Sammy?!" 

"Case is over, no thanks to you too. Which, by the way, makes me so happy you finally pulled your head out your asses but also…why so fucking loud? I'm moving to a room further away when we get back, maybe even out of the bunker."

Dean yawned and stretched before congratulating him. 

"Good for you, Sammy." He nuzzled Cas. Sam wretched and left with the door slamming behind him. 

Dean's body shook, not only with his own laughter but, surprisingly, with Cas' too. The deep rumble through his chest unfamiliar but so welcome. Dean leaned up and pecked Cas on the lips, once, twice and once again for luck. 

"Okay, let's see what Sammy went up against…" He scanned the contents on the file and snorted. "A haunted paperweight? Really?" 

It turned out that a pure gold ornament had once adorned the desk of a particularly strict, but fair, judge. He was known as the most honest man in the state but met his grisly end at the hands of his wife's lover. Seems the item was sold to a jeweller at an estate sale in a box of random antiques and trinkets. They had always handled it with gloves so had never come under attack from the ghost.

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for Anika's killer, who, while wearing the ring, could see the 'truth' of his husband and Anika's relationship. Apparently they had a fling in the past before meeting their respective spouses and, upon getting the time frame confused, assumed the worst. The ghost took advantage and leapt in to attack his spouse's 'lover.' The other victims had similar fates. 

A housewife, Alexandra Horne, had ended up in hospital after her son had struck her with the soccer trophy she had told him was from his school. She had simply been trying to spare his feelings after a loss. 

Architect, Greg Wu, had given his wife a locket in its box. She had choked him with it after learning he had lost his job and not told her. 

"Yeesh, the truth can be a real bitch, huh?" 

"I don't know, Dean. If we'd been honest with each other before," he dragged a hand up the nude flesh of Dean's thigh, "we could have been doing this," ran the hand around his back and up between his shoulder blades, "much," kiss on the forehead, "much," kiss to Dean's nose, "sooner." Cas finished by kissing the breath from Dean and rolling them both to straddle him. Their gazes held, as Dean's fingers trailed lazily over Cas' heart. 

"That, Angel," Dean murmured between kisses, "is a very good point." 

The End


	26. You chose to shut it down...

"Cas!" Dean jumped to his feet, chair flying out behind him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, go to our room, buddy. Sam will be back soon and he doesn't need to see all that." He gestured vaguely to Cas', now exposed, chest. 

"Of course, Dean. I shall remove myself…for Sam's sake." Cas rose, still twitching and continued to shed his clothes as he made his way to the other room, dropping them as he went. Dean was in the process of tidying up after him when Sam arrived back with breakfast. 

Dean tried really hard not to imagine Cas standing naked on the other side of the shitty wallpaper and garish art work. Naked with his wings out and grooming himself. Touching his feathers and hands roaming… Sam cleared his throat and Dean tore his eyes from the wall to catch a very confused look on his brother's face. 

"You okay? You've been staring at the wall for a while now, and you haven't actually eaten anything yet."

"Uh, yeah, fine, long drive, not hungry." Dean shoved half a breakfast burrito in his mouth and excused himself to the bathroom. 

He paced in the small space, biding his time before he could go back to his room. He could go now, walk in casually, grab his bag casually, have a good look at what Cas has been hiding on a different celestial plane...casually.

Once all three men were ready, Sam and Dean both having shaved and dressed in their fed getup, Dean resolutely ignored Cas sitting on his bed in his shirt sleeves and started to pack. He realised he was being optimistic about the case, but he really wanted to be sure of a quick getaway if he needed one. 

"Okay." Sam popped his head through the door. "The latest victim was a woman in her late 30’s. Blonde, active, mother of a grown son who lives an hour or so away. Wife of a local banker. Doesn't share any similarities with the other victims that we can tell. She was at dinner with her best friend and his husband when the friend broke a wine glass and stabbed her with it. He claims he doesn't remember any of it. He's in custody a town over. Not much we can do for him but we can stop this thing from striking again."

Dean nodded along, face screwed up as he thought. 

"Where were they eating and can we talk to the husbands?" 

"We're meeting Eric Mathers—that's the friend’s husband—at the restaurant in about an hour." Sam straightened his tie then disappeared. Cas pulled on his coat as he followed and Dean took up the rear, grabbing his duffle on the way. 

The restaurant turned out to be more of a diner, albeit with the pleather seats intact and no brown spots on the chrome trims. The hostess—a perky redhead—directed them to the table Eric was already sitting at. He stared out the window and didn't turn until all three men had taken their seats. Sam next to him and Dean and Cas squeezed in on the other side. 

"Mr. Mathers?" Dean began. "I'm Agent Hayes. These are Agents Hudson and Vickers. We understand you were eating here with the victim and your husband when he attacked her? Could you tell us what happened?" 

"If I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. I still don't believe it. Max is the sweetest man you'll ever meet. He wouldn't hurt a fly! I don't understand what happened. We were waiting for dessert, the meal had been lovely, we've both known Ani for years! 

"She was telling us about a trip through Asia she went on after college when Max just stood up and…and he…" Eric grappled with the napkin dispenser until Dean helped him pull out a few. "He smashed the glass, and just…" with one hand dabbing at his eyes, he weakly mimed a stabbing motion with the other. Sam laid a hand on the man's forearm and encouraged him with a small smile and a nod. 

"Has anything changed at home, Mr. Mathers? New job? Renovation?" asked Dean softly. 

Eric shook his head. Cas frowned. Uh oh, that was a good sign he was about to be blunt. Sometimes useful, sometimes…not so much. 

"How long were you and Anika together?" Cas intoned gravely. 

"How…how did you know?" the man stuttered, wide eyed. "It was before we moved here. Ani and I met on that Asia trip. We had a little vacation fling, parted ways then by total coincidence, we ended up here. That's it, I promise! We were both happily married." 

Sam had been flicking through the file as Eric talked, he now pushed forward a few photos. A candid shot of Max at a barbecue, a selfie of the three diners on the night in question and his mugshot. 

"We believe you, Eric. Now, what can you tell us about this ring Max is wearing?" Sam tapped the selfie. "He doesn't have it at the barbeque but he has it here." 

Eric stared blankly at the photos, absentmindedly stroking the mugshot, until realisation dawned on his face. 

"His wedding ring. He's had it for years but he had it resized. He's put on weight recently, says its stress from work, so he had it made bigger. That's why he wasn't wearing it, nothing nefarious! I told you, he's a good man. We are…were…happy." He looked devastated, red faced and wringing his hands in his lap. 

"Alright Mr. Mathers. Please call if you think of anything." Sam handed him his card and he fiddled with it on the table, he nodded wetly when Dean patted him on the back and they left him where they found him, staring out the window. 

"So what do you make of it?" Dean asked when they had left. 

"I believe the ring could be a cursed or haunted object. Rage is a common component of a haunted item due to the manifestation of vengeance in a living body. He could very well have been briefly possessed." Cas actually stroked his stubble like an old timey detective and Dean could hear the rasp of it against his long fingers. 

"But he's had it for years," Sam pointed out. Dean clicked his fingers. 

"The extra gold! To make it bigger. Worth checking out?" Dean shrugged and Sam strode back inside to ask about the jeweller. He came back tapping on his phone. 

Karabin's was owned by a couple who had learned the trade from his father, who had learned it from his father. The family had apparently been jewellers in the 'old country', bringing their methods to the United States several generations ago. Dean cast a look to Sam. Old usually equals haunted unfortunately. 

"May we see your client list?" Dean asked. "Starting about 4 months ago." 

The proprietor—a tall, friendly brunette—grabbed a ledger from behind the counter. She smiled apologetically. 

"Sorry, we're old school here." She shuffled through the pages until she had a half inch of paper between her fingers. "That's six months. Knock yourself out." 

Cas started to speed read the entries, pausing occasionally to make notes. Dean busied himself by poking around the shop, ducking through a curtain to find the workshop. The station was littered with intricate tools—tiny saws, things that looked like lockpicks—scraps of various metals and a dainty pair of white gloves. 

An ornate curleque of gold drew his attention as some of it had been neatly sliced away leaving such a clean edge that he assumed this was pretty good quality gold. The shimmer of purity was attractive and he had a strong urge to reach out and stroke a finger along the cut. 

[Don't touch it?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901823)

[Touch it?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699350/chapters/56901841)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Toby, JJ and Nads. 
> 
> This was intended to be printed as a stretch goal merch for Profound: a Destiel Fanzine but, alas, it wasn't to be. Maybe next time. 😉


End file.
